The Rucira Jātaka

The Buddha told this story at Jetavana, and the Jātaka Aṭṭhakathā numbers it as Jātaka No. 275. It concerns a monk who was greedy for rich food. The Buddha said that this monk had been greedy in the past too, and that his greed had brought him harm then as well. Then he told a story. The Pali text says that the story is just the same as the one in the previous Jātaka, the Lola Jātaka, No. 274, so this telling differs mainly in its verses.

In the days when Brahmadatta ruled at Benares, a rich merchant's cook hung a nest-basket in the kitchen. He did it to earn merit by giving shelter to a bird. The Bodhisatta lived in that basket as a pigeon. Each morning he went out to feed and returned at evening to rest.

A greedy crow saw the fine fish and meat in the kitchen. He wanted them, and he thought of a plan. He befriended the pigeon and said that he wished to go out feeding with him. The pigeon was a gentle bird, and he accepted the crow as a companion. For some days they went out together.

The crow went out with the pigeon, but he did not really feed as the pigeon did. He hunted for worms elsewhere, and gave the appearance of feeding. All the while his mind was on the kitchen. He was watching for a way to get at the dishes without being seen.

One day a large catch of fish came to the merchant's house. The crow lay down and groaned, and said he was ill and could not go out. The pigeon went to feed alone. As soon as he was gone, the crow got up and settled on a dish of food. He had thought he could have it all to himself.

The cook caught him in the act. He plucked every feather from the crow except for one tuft on the head, and rubbed the raw skin with spiced buttermilk. Then he tossed him into the nest-basket. The crow lay there in pain.

In the evening the pigeon came back. He saw the crow lying in the basket, and he spoke in verse. He asked, half in jest, who this pretty crane was, lying in the crow's own nest, since the plucked and raw-skinned bird before him looked nothing like one. He added that the crow, his friend, was fierce, and that this was his nest. The crow answered in a verse of his own. He said, 'Surely you know me, friend, the twice-born who eats millet. I did not do what you told me, and so you see me plucked.'

The pigeon said, "You will suffer again, friend, for such is your nature. The wealth of human beings cannot be enjoyed by birds." Then he said that he could not live there any longer, and he flew away. The crow died in the basket. His hunger had taken him farther than his judgement would allow.

When the Buddha finished the discourse, he named the characters. The greedy monk had been the crow. The Buddha himself had been the pigeon. After hearing the Four Noble Truths, the monk attained the Fruit of the Third Path.

The Jātaka Aṭṭhakathā tells this story again with new verses because the lesson deserves to be repeated. Greed made the crow pretend, then lie, and then steal. The pigeon's counsel, which the crow had not followed, was plain from the start. The warning in the last verse is simple. Some things are not meant to be enjoyed by those who have not earned them, and trying to take them by cunning ends in loss. A devotee can ask what hungers pull him towards kitchens that are not his own, and who the wise friend is whose advice he has ignored. The story also shows the pigeon's patience. He did not trap the crow or punish him. He simply stayed true to his own conduct, and let the crow's choices carry their own results. A friend's advice is a gift, and refusing it has a price.