The Musical Donkey

A donkey who worked all day for a washerman had, over time, become friends with a jackal who lived nearby. Both of them loved to eat, and both were often hungry, so when the jackal discovered a farmer's field bursting with ripe cucumbers, he invited the donkey to come along one night and share in the feast.

They slipped through a gap in the fence after dark and ate their fill in the moonlight, cucumber after cucumber, until both their bellies were round and full. It was, without question, the finest meal either of them had ever had.

As they lay resting among the vines, the donkey felt a strange happiness bubble up inside him — the kind of joy that, in a donkey, can only be expressed one way. "Friend," he said to the jackal, "I feel a song rising in me. I simply must sing."

The jackal's eyes went wide with alarm. "Please, don't," he whispered urgently. "We are thieves in someone else's field in the middle of the night — the moment you bray, the farmer will hear us and come running. Stay quiet, and let's finish eating in peace."

But the donkey could not be reasoned with. "Music," he declared proudly, "is not something to be ashamed of. My voice is a gift, and I intend to share it." The jackal, seeing there was no stopping him, quietly slipped back through the fence and out of the field, leaving the donkey to his fate.

The donkey threw back his head and let out a tremendous, braying song that rang out across the sleeping fields.

The farmer woke instantly, grabbed his stick, and ran out to find the source of the racket — and found, to his fury, a donkey standing calmly among the ruins of his cucumber patch. He beat the donkey soundly and chased him from the field, and the donkey limped home that night with a full belly, a sore back, and, at last, a little more wisdom than he'd had the evening before.