The Fox and the Grapes

One warm afternoon, a fox wandered along the edge of the countryside.

He had been walking since morning, following winding paths through fields and beneath shady trees. He had searched beside the stream, under the berry bushes and around the roots of an old oak.

But he had found nothing to eat.

His stomach gave a long, unhappy rumble.

“I heard you the first time,” the fox told it. “I am looking.”

He climbed over a low stone wall and entered a quiet vineyard. Rows of green vines stretched down the sunny slope. Their leaves whispered whenever the breeze passed through them.

Then the fox saw something wonderful.

The finest grapes

Hanging from a vine above him was a bunch of grapes.

They were round, purple and so ripe that the sunlight shone on their smooth skins. The bunch looked cool and juicy beneath the leaves.

The fox’s mouth watered.

“At last,” he said. “Those are exactly what I need.”

He stood on his back paws and stretched as high as he could.

The grapes remained several paw-lengths above his nose.

The fox frowned.

“A simple jump will do it.”

He stepped back, bent his legs and sprang into the air.

Up he went.

Snap went his jaws.

But the grapes were still above him when he landed in the grass.

The fox looked around quickly. No one had seen him miss.

“I was only warming up,” he said.

Higher and higher

This time, the fox backed up until his tail touched the stone wall.

He ran toward the vine and leaped.

His front paws reached forward. His nose almost brushed the lowest grape.

Almost.

He landed with a soft thump.

One grape leaf fluttered down and settled on his head.

The fox shook it away.

“The ground is uneven,” he muttered. “That jump did not count.”

He chose a flatter place and tried again.

He jumped from the left.

He jumped from the right.

He took a short run, a long run and one very serious run in which he narrowed his eyes and held his tail perfectly straight.

Each time, the grapes stayed just beyond his reach.

The afternoon grew hotter. Dust clung to the fox’s paws, and his beautiful red fur became untidy.

He sat down to catch his breath.

Above him, the grapes swayed gently in the breeze as if they had not noticed all his effort.

“Perhaps one more try,” said the fox.

The clever plan

The fox studied the vine carefully.

“Jumping is not the only way,” he decided. “A clever fox makes a clever plan.”

He found a fallen branch and tried to knock the grapes down. The branch was too short.

He pushed a stone beneath the vine and stood on it. The stone wobbled, and he stepped off before he tumbled.

He tried pulling the lowest part of the vine, but it was twisted firmly around the wooden frame.

At last, the fox made his greatest leap of all.

He raced down the row, sprang from the stone and stretched every paw toward the shining fruit.

For one exciting moment, he felt certain he would reach it.

Then he landed beneath the vine with nothing but another leaf between his teeth.

The fox dropped the leaf.

He was tired, hot and still very hungry.

Worse, he was disappointed.

The grapes had looked perfect. He had wanted them very much. After all his jumping and planning, he still could not have them.

The fox did not like that feeling.

Sour grapes

He stood, brushed the dust from his chest and lifted his nose.

“Those grapes are probably sour,” he announced to the empty vineyard.

He took a few steps away, then looked back.

They still looked sweet.

“Very sour,” he said more loudly. “I would not eat them even if they fell into my paws.”

The fox marched toward the stone wall.

For a moment, saying the grapes were bad made him feel better. If the fruit was sour, then failing to reach it did not matter.

But deep down, the fox knew he had not tasted even one grape.

He did not know whether they were sour.

He was only pretending that something must be worthless because he could not have it.

At the wall, the fox stopped.

“The truth,” he said quietly, “is that the grapes look delicious, and I am disappointed that I could not reach them.”

The words did not put grapes in his stomach. They did not make the vine any lower.

Still, telling the truth felt better than fooling himself.

A different path

The fox left the vineyard and continued along the road.

Soon he reached a hedgerow where blackberries grew close to the ground. They were not the grapes he had wanted, but they were ripe, sweet and easy to reach.

He ate until his stomach stopped rumbling.

As the fox rested in the shade, he thought about the high vine.

Sometimes we work hard for something and still do not get it. We may feel embarrassed, frustrated or disappointed. Those feelings can tempt us to say that the thing was never good enough for us anyway.

But calling the grapes sour did not change the grapes.

It only hid the truth.

The fox decided that the next time something stayed beyond his reach, he would try his best, admit how he felt and then choose what to do next.

That was a much wiser plan than criticizing what he could not have.

If you enjoyed this fable, read The Tortoise and the Hare for another story about effort, or The Boy Who Cried Wolf for a tale about honesty and trust.