There once was a Sparrowhawk who wanted to be a Condor.
He wanted the respect of all the birds and the size to demand it.
He wanted to be known.
He spent all his time talking loud.
Bragging and boasting.
He seldom flew.
He seldom hunted.
He ate scraps from his parents table and carrion he found.
The other birds did not like him because he spent all of his time talking about himself.
Talking about what he would be.
Talking about the future he wanted.
But never living in the present.
Time passed and all his peers flew away.
To families and far away adventures.
He was left alone with the aging flock.
His was no longer young.
He was plump and weak.
His feathers losing all luster.
One day he came upon a Red-Tailed Hawk drinking at a stream.
"Where are you going?" the Sparrowhawk asked.
"Wherever the wind takes me." the Red-Tailed Hawk replied.
After a time the Sparrowhawk said "What is the secret?"
"It is good to dream. It is better to live." came the reply, echoing off the trees, as the stranger vanished into the darkening blue of dusk.