In spring, when lambent zephyrs vivify the vegetation, animals emerge from every den to seek their livelihood.
A wolf was shaking off the stupor caused by winter’s rigors when he spotted, in a greening field, a grazing horse. His joy was boundless.
Slavering, he muttered, “You would sate a lion’s appetite! But how to catch you? If you were a sheep, there’d be no problem. Prey like this, however, calls for cunning.”
So, with stately steps the wolf approached and greeted cheerily the horse. “A student of the Hippocratic art am I,” he said: “A healer. Should you hurt, or suffer any malady, disclose it, sir, to me, and I will cure it; for I know the properties medicinal of every herb that in this meadow grows.”
“I have,” the horse confessed, “an abscess on my foot.”
“My child,” the ‘doctor’ cried, “the foot’s a veritable breeding-ground for ills! But luck is yours: I am not only an internalist, I practice surgery as well. Lift up your hoof,” he said, prepared to pounce; “Let’s have a peek.”
The horse, who’d grown distrustful, gave the charlatan a peek indeed: he kicked him in the face, and turned his mandibles to mush.
The wolf, in need of healing, wailed, “It serves me right. I played herbalist, but by nature I was made a butcher. One should stick to one’s own trade.”