Chapter 170
A crow, on the verge of dying with thirst, spied a pitcher in the distance and flew to it with joy. But when he arrived, he discovered to his grief it the narrow-necked pitcher contained so little water that he could not possibly get at it, despite all his efforts. At one point he decided to turn the pitcher over and break it. However, he was not strong enough to succeed. At last, seeing some small pebbles nearby, he gathered them and dropped them into the pitcher one by one. By this means the water gradually rose to the brim, and he could quench his thirst with ease.
Necessity is the mother of invention. (Also never, ever, give-up!)
