In union there is strength.
Jātaka 206: ii. 152-155.
On a certain occasion the Teacher related the following story:
In times past, when Brahmadatta ruled at Benāres, the Future Buddha was an antelope and made his home in a certain thicket in a forest, not far from a certain lake. Not far from that same lake, on the tip of a certain tree, perched a woodpecker. Moreover in the lake a tortoise made his home. Thus did those three live together as friends, kindly affectionate one towards another.
Now a certain hunter, on his way through the forest, seeing the tracks of the Future Buddha at the place where the animals went to drink, set a trap, resembling an iron foot-chain, only made of leathern strips, and went his way. In the very first watch of the night the Future Buddha, coming to drink of the water, became entangled in the trap and cried the cry of a captured animal.
When he made that sound, from the tip of the tree came the woodpecker and out of the water came the tortoise. And they took counsel together, saying: “What’s to be done now?” Then said the woodpecker, addressing the tortoise: “Master, you have teeth; you saw this trap in two. I’ll go and manage things in such a way that that hunter sha’n’t come near. Thus, if the two of us do our very best, our friend will save his life.” And explaining this matter, he uttered the first stanza:
The tortoise began to chew the strips of leather. The woodpecker went to the village where the hunter lived. At the first signs of dawn, the hunter took his knife and started to leave the house. The bird, observing that he was leaving the house, shrieked, flapped his wings, and struck him in the face just as he was coming out of the front door. Thought the hunter: “I have been struck by a bird of evil omen.” So he went back, lay down for a little while, and then got up again and took his knife.
The bird knew: “This fellow first came out of the front door. This time he will come out of the back door.” So he went and perched back of the house. As for the hunter, he thought: “When I went out of the front door, I saw a bird of evil omen. This time I will go out of the back door.” So he went out of the back door. Again the bird shrieked, flew at him, and struck him in the face. The hunter, struck once again by that bird of evil omen, made up his mind: “That bird will not permit me to go out.” So he went back, lay down until the dawn came up, and when it was dawn, took his knife and went out. The bird went quickly and told the Future Buddha: “The hunter is coming!”
At that moment the tortoise had chewed all of the strips except just one strap. But his teeth had got to the point where they were ready to drop, and his jaws were smeared with blood. The Future Buddha saw the hunter, knife in hand, coming on with lightning-speed. Rending that strap, he entered the wood. The bird perched on the tip of the tree. But the tortoise was so weak that he continued to lie right there. The hunter threw the tortoise into a sack and hung the sack on some stump or other.
At that moment the tortoise had chewed all of the strips except just one strap.
The Future Buddha came back, looked about, and perceived that the tortoise had been taken captive. “I will grant my friend the boon of life!” he resolved. So feigning weakness, he showed himself to the hunter. “That antelope must be very weak,” thought the hunter: “I will kill him.” And knife in hand, he started after him. The Future Buddha, keeping not too far away and not too near, led him on and entered the forest. When he thought he had gone far enough, he disguised his tracks, went by another path with the speed of the wind, lifted the sack on his horn, flung it on the ground, broke it open, and let out the tortoise. As for the woodpecker, he came down from the tree.
The Future Buddha, admonishing his two friends, said: “I, through you, have obtained my life. You have done for me what a friend should do for a friend. At any moment the hunter may come and catch you. Therefore, Master woodpecker, do you take your fledglings and go elsewhere; and do you, Master tortoise, enter the water.” They did so.
The Teacher, as Supreme Buddha, uttered the second stanza:
When the hunter returned to that spot and saw nothing at all, he took the tattered sack and went to his own house in deep dejection. As for those three friends, they lived all their lives long with never a break in their friendly relations, and then passed away according to their deeds.