The Quarrelsome Quails

In a green field there lived a great flock of quails, plump little birds who pecked happily in the grass. But there was a fowler who hunted them, and he was very good at his work. He would creep close, fling his big net out over the feeding birds, and gather them up by the dozen. The quails were terrified.

Now, the wisest quail among them had been thinking hard about this. “Friends,” he said one day, “I believe I know how to save us. The next time that net comes down over us, do not flap about in a panic, each bird on its own. Instead, every single one of you must poke your head up through a hole in the net, and then, all together, at the very same moment, we beat our wings and fly straight up. We will lift the whole net with us. We will carry it to that thornbush over there, drop it on the thorns, and slip out safely from underneath.”

It sounded almost too simple. But the very next time the fowler threw his net, the quails did exactly as the wise one had said. Every little head popped up through a hole, every little wing beat down at once, and up rose the whole net into the air, quails and all. They flew it across to the thornbush, dropped it neatly over the thorns, and darted out from below, free as could be. The fowler was left scratching his head, his net tangled hopelessly in the bush.

This happened again and again, until the poor fowler hardly caught a single bird, and the quails grew quite pleased with themselves.

But pleased birds, it turns out, sometimes grow careless. One day, as the flock pecked in the grass, two quails bumped into each other. “Mind where you step!” snapped the first. “You trod on my foot!” “I did no such thing,” huffed the second. “You bumped into me!” And the two of them fell to squabbling, and would not let it go.

And of course, that was the very day the fowler crept up and flung his net.

“Quick!” cried the wise quail. “All together, now! Lift!” But the two quarrelling birds were still too busy being cross with each other. “Why should I lift for him?” “Let her lift it herself!” And because they would not push together with the rest, the net did not rise at all. It stayed where it fell, and the fowler gathered up the whole flock, every last one.

They had been perfectly safe, for as long as they pulled together. It took only one silly quarrel to undo them all.