A Beetle once begged the Eagle to spare a Hare which had run to her for protection. He had tried to attack them several times, but they had kept together, and helped each other to drive him off. Off he started on a run. Wait, cried the Cock. Now that I think of it, I have a wonderful wine here, sent me from Olympus, of which I am told Apollo drinks before he sings to the high gods. He had no chance to bite the watchful Countryman. Wolf!, But though the Villagers heard the cry, they did not run to help him as they had before. As they went along, picking up provisions on the way - a stray mouse here, a fat chicken there - they began an argument to while away the time between bites. Or is it his wrinkled hide? They have taken all they can hold. And since then the Bat family hides in dark towers and deserted ruins, flying out only in the night.
Deeds count, not boasting words.