Zainab and the Greedy Crow

Zainab was six and three-quarters, which she felt was very important to mention. Her bedroom window looked out onto a giant neem tree, and in that tree lived the loudest, sneakiest, shiniest crow in the whole neighborhood. His name, Zainab decided, was Mr. Whiskers, because she liked the name even though crows don't have whiskers.

Mr. Whiskers had a problem. He LOVED shiny things. A spoon left on the windowsill? Gone. A hair clip? Gone. A coin Zainab was saving for the masjid donation box? Definitely gone. Zainab was very annoyed.

'Baba,' she said at dinner, 'the crow is a thief.' Her father smiled. 'Maybe he doesn't know. Crows are clever, but no one taught him the word mine.' Zainab thought about this all night.

The next morning, instead of yelling, Zainab put one shiny button on the windowsill. Just one. And next to it, a little piece of roti. Mr. Whiskers landed cautiously. He looked at the button. He looked at the roti. He picked up the roti first, ate it in three loud gulps, and then — instead of taking the button — he dropped a small white pebble next to it.

Zainab gasped. 'Baba! He's TRADING!' Her father came to look. 'Subhanallah,' he said. 'You gave him something freely, so he gave something back. The Prophet ﷺ taught us that even animals have their rights and their ways.'

Every morning after that, Zainab put out a little roti. Every morning, Mr. Whiskers left a small treasure — a smooth pebble, a tiny twig shaped like a J, once even a real silver earring (which her mother quietly returned to the neighbor). Zainab decided that the best way to deal with a greedy crow was not to scold him, but to teach him kindness. And honestly? It worked on her little brother too.