In a certain forest there once lived a herd of monkeys. One day during the winter when the monkeys were suffering from the cold, they saw a firefly and in their great distress thought it was fire. They gathered dry sticks, grass, and leaves, and covered the firefly with them. They stretched their arms over it, actually enjoying the warm comfort of the imaginary fire, rubbing their armpits, bellies, and chests. One of the monkeys who was especially affected by the cold became totally absorbed in blowing incessantly on the firefly.

When a bird happened to see this, he flew down from the tree and said to that monkey: “Don’t trouble yourself, my friend. This is not fire. It’s only a firefly.” But the monkey ignored his advice and went on blowing. The bird tried repeatedly to make him quit, but the monkey would not. To make a long story short, the bird kept coming closer and closer to his ear and nagging him persistently, which infuriated the monkey, who grabbed the bird in one fell swoop, smashed him on a rock, and killed him.

From The Pancatantra: The Book of India’s Folk Wisdom, Translated by Patrick Olivelle, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997, p. 60.