Long, long ago the birds of the world held a great assembly — swans and parrots, cranes and cuckoos, peacocks and pigeons. They said to one another, “Garuda is our king, but he dwells far away in the service of Lord Vishnu and never spares a thought for us. What use is a king who neither guards nor guides his people? Come, let us crown the owl, who keeps watch all through the night, as king of the birds!”
So holy water was fetched from the sacred rivers, a seat of state was decked with flowers, the priests among the birds began to chant, and the owl sat waiting solemnly for the auspicious moment. Just then a crow came flying by. “What festival is this?” he asked. The birds thought, “The crow is the shrewdest of us all — let us hear his word too.”
The crow laughed harshly. “What folly is this? While the majestic Garuda lives, would you crown this day-blind, frowning bird? The very name of a great lord is protection enough for his people. But crown the owl, and the gentle birds will live in dread of that fierce face forever. Do as you please — I have spoken.” And he flew away. The birds looked at one another, their joy gone cold, and one by one they slipped quietly home. The coronation never took place.
When the owl learned why the assembly had melted away, he burned with hurt and anger. “O crow!” he vowed. “I did not ask for this crown, yet your bitter tongue has snatched it from me. From this day, owls and crows are enemies forever.”
And the crow said to himself, “Alas, why did I speak so sharply where no one asked me? A harsh truth, spoken needlessly, plants a hatred that never dies.” That is why, to this very day, the owl and the crow cannot bear the sight of each other.