- It was the nest-building season, but after days of long hard work, the sparrows sat in the evening glow, relaxing and chirping away.
"We are so small and weak. Imagine how easy life would be if we had an owl who could help us build our nests!"
"Yes!" said another. "And we could use it to look after our elderly and our young."
"It could give us advice and keep an eye on out for the neighborhood cat," added a third.
Then Pastus, the elder-bird, spoke: "Let us send out scouts in all directions and try to find an abandoned owlet somewhere, or maybe an egg. A crow chick might also do, or a baby weasel. This could be the best thing that ever happened to us, at least since the opening of the Pavilion of Unlimited Grain in yonder backyard."
The flock was exhilarated, and sparrows everywhere started chirping at the top of their lungs.
Only Scronkfinkle, a one-eyed sparrow with a fretful temperament, was unconvinced of the wisdom of the endeavor. Quoth he: "This will surely be our undoing. Should we not give some thought to the art of owl-domestication and owl-taming first, before we bring such a creature into our midst?"
Replied Pastus: "Taming an owl sounds like an exceedingly difficult thing to do. It will be difficult enough to find an owl egg. So let us start there. After we have succeeded in raising an owl, then we can think about taking care of this other challenge."
"There is a flaw in that plan!" squeaked Scronkfinkle; but his protests were in vain as the flock had already lifted off to start implementing the directives set out by Pastus.
Just two or three sparrows remained behind. Together they began to try to work out how owls might be tamed or domesticated. They soon realized that Pastus had been right: this was an exceedingly difficult challenge, especially in the absence of an actual owl to practice on. Nevertheless they pressed on as best as they could, constantly fearing that the flock might return with an owl egg before a solution to the control problem had been found.
It is not known how the story ends, but the author dedicates this book to Scronkfinkle and his followers.
Här ett avsnitt ur min allra första favorit-TV-serie. Nick Bostroms fabel skulle göra sig fint som ett avsnitt i samma serie, och jag undrar om han liksom jag präglats av den i sin barndom.
SvaraRaderaHur var det nu igen, Arne, gick du i samma grundskoleklass som Bockstensmannen?
RaderaJag är något äldre än Bockstensmannen, så jag hörde till "de stora grabbarna" då han började skolan. Jag har inget minne av att jag utsatte honom för mobbning, men minnet är ju förvisso selektivt.
RaderaJag har ägnat sommaren åt Anders Jallis trilogi om Anton Modin. Det är en konspiratorisk agent skröna om den svenska efterkrigshistorien av kiosklitteratur typ. Men det finns en del underhållande likheter med SI/klimatupplysningen och den arla gryning organisation som skissas om i de två senare böckerna som roat mig särskilt
SvaraRadera