It had not rained in a long time, and a crow was very, very thirsty.

She flew over fields and roads and dusty paths, looking for water. Her throat was dry. Her wings were tired. She was beginning to lose hope.

Then she spotted a tall pitcher sitting by the side of a road. She flew down and landed on its rim. Sure enough, there was water inside.

But the water was at the very bottom of the pitcher. The crow stuck her beak in as far as it would go, but she couldn't reach it. The pitcher was too deep and too narrow.

She tried to tip it over, but it was too heavy. She tried to crack it with her beak, but it was too strong.

The crow sat on the rim and thought. She was so thirsty, and the water was right there, just out of reach.

Then she had an idea.

She hopped down to the ground and picked up a small pebble in her beak. She dropped it into the pitcher. Plink. The water rose just a tiny bit.

She found another pebble. Plink. And another. Plink. And another. Plink, plink, plink.

One by one, pebble by pebble, the water rose higher and higher in the pitcher.

At last, it was high enough to reach. The crow dipped her beak in and drank. The water was cool and sweet, and it was the best drink she had ever had.

Little by little gets the job done.