The Peacock's Envy of the Swan

A magnificent peacock, admired by all for his brilliant tail feathers, watched a swan glide gracefully and effortlessly across a lake one morning and grew consumed with envy, convinced that gliding on water must be a far more impressive skill than mere ground-walking or flying.

He approached the swan and demanded to be taught immediately, refusing to accept that his own body — heavy tail, webless feet — was simply not built for such movement. The swan gently warned him the skill required a body shaped for it, but the proud peacock, certain his beauty entitled him to any skill he desired, waded stubbornly into the water anyway.

His heavy, waterlogged tail dragged him down almost instantly, and he flailed and splashed helplessly until the swan, taking pity, helped tow him back to shore, exhausted and thoroughly humiliated in front of a gathering crowd of other birds. The peacock, dripping and ashamed, finally understood what the swan had tried gently to tell him: envying a skill built for a body unlike your own only ever ends in humiliation, not mastery.