Lola Jātaka

The Blessed One recounted this solemn tale while residing at Jetavana monastery regarding a monk enslaved by covetousness of rich tastes (Rasatanha). In the ancient city of Varanasi, when Brahmadatta was king, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a noble and temperate pigeon. At that time, the cook of a wealthy merchant, desiring to acquire merit, hung a nest-basket in the merchant's kitchen. The Bodhisatta made his home in it, flying out each dawn to feed and returning at dusk to roost in serene contentment.

One day a greedy crow flew over the kitchen and saw the heaps of fish laid out there. Possessed by hunger and greed, the crow resolved that he must feast upon these delicacies, and he thought: 'I will use the pigeon to get at them.' Seeing the gentle pigeon set out to forage, the crow followed close behind. When the pigeon asked why, the crow professed affection and begged to be his servant and to feed alongside him.

The Bodhisatta answered only: 'Friend, you and I do not feed alike.' But when the crow insisted that he would serve him and eat as he ate, the pigeon agreed. They went out together, and the crow only pretended to forage: while the pigeon fed on grass seeds, the crow pecked at cow-dung for worms, then flew back and urged the pigeon to hurry. Seeing the pigeon arrive with a companion, the cook was pleased and hung up a second basket for the crow.

After four or five days, a great load of fish was brought to the merchant's house, and the kitchen filled with preparations. The crow, longing to stay behind, lay groaning in his basket. When the pigeon called him to go foraging, the crow replied: 'Friend, I have indigestion and cannot go.' The pigeon saw clearly that greed held his companion captive and, with a mocking remark that crows digest everything quickly, warned him: 'Do take care; the food of human beings is not for birds to take.' Then he flew off to his feeding.

No sooner had the pigeon gone than the crow waited for the cook to step away from the kitchen door. He then swooped onto a dish of food. At the clatter, the cook turned, saw the thief, and caught him.

Enraged, the cook resolved to make an unforgettable example. He plucked every feather from the crow's body except a tuft on his head. He then ground ginger and cinnamon with buttermilk and rubbed the paste over the crow's bleeding body, and threw him into his basket. There the wretched crow lay groaning in unbearable pain.

When the Bodhisatta returned from his feeding, he saw the crow's wretched state, whitened by the buttermilk and crested with the single tuft, and mocked him in verse: 'Who is this crested crane, a robber, an ascending grandfather?' The crow replied in verse: 'I am not a crested crane; I am a greedy crow, plucked because I did not heed your words.' The Bodhisatta answered in a third verse: 'Again you will suffer, dear friend, such is your character; the wealth of human beings cannot be enjoyed by birds.' Then he said that he could not live with such a creature, and flew away. The crow lay groaning in the basket until he died. The Buddha, having taught the Truths, identified the greedy crow as the greedy monk, who attained the fruit of the Third Path, and Himself as the pigeon.

This episode is preserved in the Pali Canon's Tikanipāta, within the Udapanavagga, as Jātaka No. 274. The very next entry, Jātaka No. 275, the Rucira Jātaka, retells this same deception in a kitchen under a fresh set of canonical verses, framing the crow's vanity over his own feathers rather than his hunger alone. Readers seeking that companion telling, with its distinct gāthās (verses), may turn to the Rucira Jātaka as a shorter, cross-referenced sequel to this fuller account.