A farmer placed nets along his newly planted fields and caught a number
of Cranes that had come to pick his seeds. Along with the Cranes, there
was one Stork.
"Pray spare me, Master," begged the Stork, "And let me go free this
once. I am no Crane, but a Stork of excellent character. Look at my
feathers, my legs, and my beak. You can see that in no way do they
resemble those of the Crane. Even my name, Ozfingwe, bears me well in
conversations all across Sapience."
The Farmer was not deceived by these words. "All that you say may be
true," he said, "but I caught you with these robbers and have every
reason to think you are a robber too. After all, birds of a feather
flock together."

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Lupar, in the year 336 AF.