The Fox and the Grapes

The story

One hot afternoon a fox came wandering near a vineyard. He had walked a long way, and hunger made every scent seem sharper than before. Above him, on a high trellis, hung clusters of ripe grapes, dark purple and shining among the leaves. They looked full of juice, and the air about them seemed sweet.

The fox stopped at once. “Those grapes are exactly what I need,” he thought. He drew back a few paces, crouched low, and sprang upward. His paws reached high, but the lowest cluster hung just beyond them. The grapes shook a little in the breeze and remained where they were.

The fox tried again. This time he ran farther before he jumped, stretching his neck and opening his jaws as though he might catch the fruit in his teeth. Still he missed. He tried a third time, and then a fourth. The grass beneath him was trampled, dust clung to his coat, and his breath came hard. Yet the grapes stayed above him, bright and untouched.

At last the fox stood still. His legs ached, his throat was dry, and disappointment pricked him sharply. But he did not wish to admit that the grapes were beyond his reach. He lifted his nose, turned away, and said, “They are sour, I am sure. I would not eat them if they were offered to me.”

Then he walked off, trying to look as though he had never wanted them at all. Behind him, the grapes swayed gently in the sun. They had not changed. Only the fox’s words had changed, for it is easy to despise what one cannot obtain.