One day, in the middle of autumn, a strong wind blew through the forest. Clouds covered the sky, and the leaves danced in a wild whirlwind. In the midst of this storm, a crow flying over the fields collided with the branch of an old tree. With a muffled croak, it fell to the ground—one of its wings hanging limply.
The crow tried to rise, to spread its feathers, but a sharp pain shot through its body. It realized it couldn't do it alone. So it raised its gaze to the sky, where the birds were circling, and cawed hopefully:
— Help... I can't fly...
A magpie was flying by—it saw the crow and just snorted:
— You were always proud, you flew high and laughed at us. Now ask for help yourself.
Behind her flew a blackbird, a goldfinch, and even a jay—all looking away, casting brief glances filled either with contempt or indifference.
The crow lowered its head. Alone, hungry, and wounded, it began to lose faith.
But then, from some nearby bush, a thin, delicate voice was heard:
"I'll help you, if you don't fear my small strength."
It was a sparrow. Small, inconspicuous, gray. It hopped beside him, carrying a crumb of dry bread in its beak. Then it brought a drop of water, a shelter of dry leaves, and made a nest by the roots of the tree.
"Why are you doing this?" the crow asked weakly.
"Because you're alive. And because, if I had fallen, I too would like someone not to pass by."
Days passed. At first, the crow couldn't even move, but the sparrow didn't abandon it. She shared crumbs with him, told him about life in the forest, and warmed him on cold nights. And when the crow was able to spread his wing again, his first thought was not of himself, but of the little friend who had become more than anyone to him.
Spring came quickly. The forest was filled with light and sounds. But one day, as the sparrow was gathering seeds from the clearing, a hawk shot out of the bushes. It all happened in an instant—the sparrow didn't even have time to chirp.
But suddenly, a black silhouette swooped down from the sky. The crow, strong and majestic, swooped down, spreading its wings so hard that the air whistled. It crashed into the hawk and swept it away.
"You saved me..." the sparrow whispered.
"No, it was you who saved me first," the crow replied. — And now I know that kindness isn't measured by the size of a wing. And the heart… can be enormous even in the smallest chest.
The moral:
Never despise those who are weaker than you. Sometimes, it's those you considered insignificant who become your support. And kindness given without expecting anything in return always comes back—when you least expect it, but need it most.
- Unknown
The crow tried to rise, to spread its feathers, but a sharp pain shot through its body. It realized it couldn't do it alone. So it raised its gaze to the sky, where the birds were circling, and cawed hopefully:
— Help... I can't fly...
A magpie was flying by—it saw the crow and just snorted:
— You were always proud, you flew high and laughed at us. Now ask for help yourself.
Behind her flew a blackbird, a goldfinch, and even a jay—all looking away, casting brief glances filled either with contempt or indifference.
The crow lowered its head. Alone, hungry, and wounded, it began to lose faith.
But then, from some nearby bush, a thin, delicate voice was heard:
"I'll help you, if you don't fear my small strength."
It was a sparrow. Small, inconspicuous, gray. It hopped beside him, carrying a crumb of dry bread in its beak. Then it brought a drop of water, a shelter of dry leaves, and made a nest by the roots of the tree.
"Why are you doing this?" the crow asked weakly.
"Because you're alive. And because, if I had fallen, I too would like someone not to pass by."
Days passed. At first, the crow couldn't even move, but the sparrow didn't abandon it. She shared crumbs with him, told him about life in the forest, and warmed him on cold nights. And when the crow was able to spread his wing again, his first thought was not of himself, but of the little friend who had become more than anyone to him.
Spring came quickly. The forest was filled with light and sounds. But one day, as the sparrow was gathering seeds from the clearing, a hawk shot out of the bushes. It all happened in an instant—the sparrow didn't even have time to chirp.
But suddenly, a black silhouette swooped down from the sky. The crow, strong and majestic, swooped down, spreading its wings so hard that the air whistled. It crashed into the hawk and swept it away.
"You saved me..." the sparrow whispered.
"No, it was you who saved me first," the crow replied. — And now I know that kindness isn't measured by the size of a wing. And the heart… can be enormous even in the smallest chest.
The moral:
Never despise those who are weaker than you. Sometimes, it's those you considered insignificant who become your support. And kindness given without expecting anything in return always comes back—when you least expect it, but need it most.
- Unknown
One day, in the middle of autumn, a strong wind blew through the forest. Clouds covered the sky, and the leaves danced in a wild whirlwind. In the midst of this storm, a crow flying over the fields collided with the branch of an old tree. With a muffled croak, it fell to the ground—one of its wings hanging limply.
The crow tried to rise, to spread its feathers, but a sharp pain shot through its body. It realized it couldn't do it alone. So it raised its gaze to the sky, where the birds were circling, and cawed hopefully:
— Help... I can't fly...
A magpie was flying by—it saw the crow and just snorted:
— You were always proud, you flew high and laughed at us. Now ask for help yourself.
Behind her flew a blackbird, a goldfinch, and even a jay—all looking away, casting brief glances filled either with contempt or indifference.
The crow lowered its head. Alone, hungry, and wounded, it began to lose faith.
But then, from some nearby bush, a thin, delicate voice was heard:
"I'll help you, if you don't fear my small strength."
It was a sparrow. Small, inconspicuous, gray. It hopped beside him, carrying a crumb of dry bread in its beak. Then it brought a drop of water, a shelter of dry leaves, and made a nest by the roots of the tree.
"Why are you doing this?" the crow asked weakly.
"Because you're alive. And because, if I had fallen, I too would like someone not to pass by."
Days passed. At first, the crow couldn't even move, but the sparrow didn't abandon it. She shared crumbs with him, told him about life in the forest, and warmed him on cold nights. And when the crow was able to spread his wing again, his first thought was not of himself, but of the little friend who had become more than anyone to him.
Spring came quickly. The forest was filled with light and sounds. But one day, as the sparrow was gathering seeds from the clearing, a hawk shot out of the bushes. It all happened in an instant—the sparrow didn't even have time to chirp.
But suddenly, a black silhouette swooped down from the sky. The crow, strong and majestic, swooped down, spreading its wings so hard that the air whistled. It crashed into the hawk and swept it away.
"You saved me..." the sparrow whispered.
"No, it was you who saved me first," the crow replied. — And now I know that kindness isn't measured by the size of a wing. And the heart… can be enormous even in the smallest chest.
🔴The moral:
Never despise those who are weaker than you. Sometimes, it's those you considered insignificant who become your support. And kindness given without expecting anything in return always comes back—when you least expect it, but need it most.
- Unknown
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