The Eagle and the Arrow

High above the rocky crags of a very tall mountain, a majestic brown eagle was soaring through the clear blue sky. He had huge, powerful wings covered in dark brown feathers. He felt like the king of the world, flying faster and higher than any other bird in the valley below.

The eagle loved to stretch his wings and ride the cool mountain breeze. He thought nothing could ever reach him up there among the soft white clouds.

But down below, hiding behind a large boulder, a skilled archer was waiting quietly. He had a strong wooden bow and a very sharp arrow. The archer pulled back the string on his bow, aimed straight up at the soaring eagle, and let the arrow fly! Woosh!

The arrow sliced through the air and struck the great eagle near his wing. The mighty bird let out a sharp cry and began to fall, tumbling down from the sky until he crashed onto the soft grass in the meadow below.

The eagle lay on his side, knowing he would never soar above the mountains again. As he slowly turned his head to look at the arrow that had brought him down, his heart sank with an even deeper sadness.

The arrow was made of a sturdy wooden shaft and a sharp stone tip, but the back of the arrow—the part that guided it straight and true through the air—was lined with beautiful, dark brown feathers.

The eagle realized with a heavy heart that the feathers on the arrow were his very own! He must have dropped them while flying over the valley days ago, and the archer had used them strictly to make his weapon perfect.

“It is bad enough to be brought down from the sky,” the eagle whispered sadly to himself. “But the pain is much worse knowing that I supplied the very feathers that guided the arrow to me.”

Moral of the Story: It hurts the most when our own actions provide the tools for our downfall.