In the grove in the evening, the lion heard a great racket from a father Robin and his brood and went to investigate.
“Friend Robin,” the lion said, “why do you make a fuss?”
“Look at this nest, O Lion. All my work on it is ruined.” The nest was a ring of thorns the robin had woven to keep the young away from the edge. But in the middle of the ring at the bottom of the nest there was little. The pine needles and other such stuff the robin put here had mostly fallen away.
“Do not fret, friend Robin,” the lion said. “As I walked here, I saw several empty nests. I will lead you to one. Then it will be as if your mistake never happened.”
“O Lion,” the robin replied, “what a piteous state would be mine if all my work for my brood were meaningless. I cannot bear that they go to another nest as if all my day’s work had never happened.”
“Then you will have your brood sleep in this nest?” the lion asked.
“No,” said the robin, “they would fall. It is not fair to them to suffer for my mistakes.”
“And you see no way for the nest to be repaired?” the lion asked.
“Oh no,” said the robin, “it was a bad idea from the start.”
Then the king of beasts took the ring of thorns and placed it on his own head. “Let your brood nest in my mane, walled in by you’ve the ring you made.”
Someone must bear the consequences.