A nightingale was singing on an oak bough, as was her custom. A hungry hawk spied her, darted to the spot, and seized her in his talons. Just as he was about to tear her apart, she begged for her life: "I am too small to make you a good meal," she pleaded. "You should seek your prey among larger birds."
The hawk eyed her with contempt. "You must think me very simple," he said. "Do you suppose I would give up a certain prize for the mere chance of a better one, of which I see no sign?"