The Fox’s Expert Consultation and The Wolf In Sheep Clothing Appointed as Judge

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

The Fox’s Expert Consultation

The fox has apparently decided that the best way to deal with the henhouse crisis is to offer the farmer expert advice about other foxes.

Once the fox begins explaining the habits, motives and behaviour of its fellow foxes, you know the meeting has truly gone off the rails. The farmer, unsuspecting as ever, seems not to realise that nobody understands fox behaviour better than a fox itself.

A fox advising the farmer about foxes? That isn’t trickery. That is an expert consultation.

Next week, no doubt, the fox will apply for the position of Head of Henhouse Security, armed with a detailed report on the dangers posed by “other foxes.” It has suddenly become a specialist in recognising its own kind — quite an impressive career development for an animal that has already left paw prints all over the henhouse.

How charming.

Nothing says “I am definitely not the problem” quite like a fox volunteering to explain the fox problem.

And naturally, the foxes will reassure the farmer that he must be careful not to be labelled harsh, uncooperative, opinionated and authoritarian by other foxes. After all, who better to lecture the farmer on fairness, honesty and good conduct than creatures currently perched inside the henhouse?

At this point, perhaps the farmer should take notes.

The Wolf Appointed as Judge

One day, a peasant went to the village police chief to complain that a ram had eaten two of his chickens. The matter was duly referred to the court.

Unfortunately, the judge was a wolf in sheep’s clothing named Abu Nasih.

The peasant explained that he had gone to his chicken coop early that morning and found the accused ram fast asleep inside. When he checked on two of his most carefully tended chickens, however, they had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but feathers and a few bones.

Naturally, he could think of only one suspect: the ram who had spent the night in the chicken house.

The ram denied the accusation.

He insisted that he had slept peacefully throughout the night, as he supposedly did whenever he stayed in the coop. There were, he claimed, bonds of familiarity and affection between himself and the chickens, and therefore no reason whatsoever for hostility.

He even asked that the neighbours — indeed, anyone from the surrounding village who knew him — be summoned to testify to his character.

He wanted the honourable judge to be completely reassured of his innocence.

Furthermore, the ram declared that neither he nor any of his ancestors had ever eaten meat. Their stomachs could not digest it, he explained, and their teeth were not strong enough to chew it.

Judge Abu Nasih listened carefully.

He lowered his head and pretended to be contemplating the matter with profound judicial wisdom. Then he shook his head sadly, fixed his eyes upon the ram, and delivered his verdict.

“The court cannot accept the defendant’s plea. Criminals are well known for concealing their crimes in order to establish their innocence.

“By the defendant’s own admission, it has been established that he spent the night inside the chicken house. He slept peacefully, naturally, after satisfying his appetite by eating the flesh of his two victims. We all know how irresistibly tempting chicken can be. Therefore, in the interests of justice, the accused shall be slaughtered, and the court shall take possession of his carcass. As for his fleece, it shall be awarded to the plaintiff as compensation for his two chickens. Long live justice.”

And so the wolf delivered justice. The fox delivered expert advice. The farmer listened.

And somewhere inside the henhouse, the remaining chickens quietly wondered whether anyone had thought to appoint a chicken as head of security.