Weary of crawling the dry, crusty earth burdened by the weight of its shell, the tortoise decided it wanted to learn fly. It asked the birds for help, but they laughed at it for even entertaining the idea, all except for the eagle, who kindly suggested the next best thing.

“If you want to know what it’s like to fly, I could take you on a short trip,” she proposed. “Yes, yes,” cried the tortoise, bobbing up and down on its short legs. “I want to know what it’s like. Let’s go, right now.”

Clutching the tortoise in her talons, the eagle took to the air. The tortoise gasped and swooned as the ground shrank beneath him. It had never been so high or moved so fast. But it felt safe in the eagle’s grasp. “This is fantastic!” it exclaimed.

A crow had been following the tortoise since the beginning of its preposterous quest. “You seem to be enjoying your maiden flight?” it observed, flying alongside. “Yes, I am,” the tortoise replied. “It was a shock at first, but I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“You certainly seem to be a natural,” the crow continued. “Don’t you think it’s time to take the next step, so to speak?” “The next step?” said the tortoise, though he knew what that next step would be. “But do you think I can do it?” it asked. “Do you really think I could fly?”

“You’re halfway there,” said the crow. “All you need to do is beat your legs as quickly as you can.” The tortoise stretched its short legs as far as they could go and began to flap them up and down. “Like this?” it asked. “Exactly,” the crow confirmed.

“Don’t encourage him,” said the eagle. “Trust me,” the crow whispered. “The tortoise will make a hearty meal. Drop it on the rocks, the shell will crack, and we’ll both fill our bellies.”

“Are you ready?” the crow asked the tortoise and the tortoise answered with an eager “Yes! I’m ready.” “Then let’s go,” the crow replied, looking at the eagle. The eagle ignored him, while the tortoise tried to wriggle free of her talons.

“Let me go,” the tortoise insisted. “Let him go,” urged the crow. “Okay. Go,” the eagle conceded and she opened her claws to release the poor creature.

For a moment, the tortoise seemed suspended in the air, its furiuos little legs beating, as if waving an excited goodbye. But it was getting smaller all the while, falling, plummeting towards the earth. When its heavy shell struck the rocks below, it smashed.

And the crow was there to pounce. It pulled apart the fragments of shell, greedy for the tender meat beneath. The eagle circled above, watching it feed. “What are you waiting for?” the crow asked between mouthfuls. “There’s plenty here for both of us.”

“You’re a monster,” the eagle called back. “You took advantage of that poor creature.” “It was you who dropped him,” the crow countered. “Why drop him if you didn’t want to eat? Tell me that.”

The eagle had let the tortoise fall. She couldn’t deny it. She could instead have returned the silly creature safe and sound, but she had been tempted by the crow’s promise. And for that reason, she wasn’t comfortable eating alongside the unscrupulous bird.

As she swooped down on the carcass, she lashed out at it, driving it away. The crow landed at a safe distance. “There you go. Tuck in,” it said. “The fool got what it deserved. And we got what we deserved too. A rare meal of tortoise meat.”

The eagle ate in silence and without relish.

© Richard Parkin, 2023