His eyes were keen. His talons were sharp, his wings strong. He was in all ways a beautiful bird.

He was born with an appetite for fish. Each day, he glided high above the water, his keen eyes searching the seas for prey. His greatest joy was to dive, to feel the rush of the wind in his powerful wings, to dip his sharp talons into the sea and to pluck therefrom a fish, just as you or I might pluck a berry from a branch.

“I am that I am sea eagle,” thought he. And for the longest time, no other thoughts had he. He was content, certain that he had found his place in the way of things. Until one day, one fateful day, a voice he heard from within, say to him, the world could yet better be.

“Yes,” thought he, “the world would better be, if only this one wish could be. I wish the fish were not quite so fast.”

Suddenly, his hunting became very easy. He feasted on salmon. He reveled in his gluttony. He ate so much he balooned out of shape.