by Antonio Napoli

A sorcerer once told this fable to illustrate the maxim that the voice of truth is always the first to be ignored.

In the middle of a barren field, a hyena lay motionless, its legs stretched out and its breath barely perceptible. It looked dead. A feverish agitation filled the air: scavenger birds circled above, watching it with ravenous eyes. They approached in cautious steps, croaking among themselves, but never daring too much.

“Beware! Do not trust the hyena!” croaked a bird with dull feathers and an uneasy gaze.

The others, perched on a tree, barely turned their heads. Its voice was shrill, graceless, as unpleasant as its appearance, and they found it disagreeable. No one paid heed.

So, after a final moment of hesitation, the birds pushed forward, breaking through their last doubts. They scurried toward the carcass, their beaks already poised to tear into its flesh.

But then the hyena’s eyes flew open. With a lightning-fast leap, it sprang up and sank its fangs into the nearest prey. The other birds burst into the sky in a whirlwind of feathers and shrieks, terrified. If only they had heeded the warning! If only they had united, perhaps they could have defended themselves, perhaps they could have saved their companion from his fate.

Such is the voice of truth: often harsh, unsettling, hard to swallow. But those who reject it simply because of the way it sounds risk perishing like the foolish birds in the field.