On the bank of the river Ganga stood a mighty fig tree where flocks of birds had built their nests. In its hollow lived Jaradgava, a vulture grown old and blind. The kind-hearted birds shared their food with him, and in return the old vulture guarded their little ones while the parents flew far in search of grain.
One day a cat named Dirghakarna — “Long-Ears” — came creeping toward the tree to eat the nestlings. The chicks squeaked in terror, and blind Jaradgava called out, “Who goes there?” The cat trembled at the sight of the great vulture, but quickly folded his paws and spoke honey-sweet words: “O wise one, your fame has travelled far. I have come only to learn holy wisdom at your feet. I am a cat by birth, but I have given up eating flesh; I keep hard fasts, I bathe in the Ganga, and I study the scriptures.”
“A cat's nature is to eat meat, and young birds live here,” said Jaradgava. “Go away.” But the cat swore solemn vows and recited verse after holy verse about ahimsa — harming no living creature — until at last the simple old vulture allowed him to stay in the hollow of the tree.
Then, day by day, the wicked cat quietly snatched the nestlings, ate them, and dropped the little bones into Jaradgava's hollow. When the birds began to miss their children, they searched every branch — and the cat silently slipped away. There, in the blind vulture's own hollow, lay the bones. “So it was he — the guardian himself — who ate our little ones!” cried the grieving birds, and in their fury they set upon poor Jaradgava, and the blameless old bird lost his life for the sin of a guest he had never truly known.
The wise therefore say: know first, and trust afterwards — never give shelter to one whose character is untested.