It happened once that Mullah Nasruddin was walking past an orchard, where he saw a tree that was covered with delicious looking figs. Surely, he told himself, it would be an affront to the Creator not to enjoy His creation. To neglect this bounty would surely be a sin! Feeling thus justified, he hopped over the wall and climbed up into the tree, where he began to eat one fig after another.

Very soon, though, the owner of the orchard appeared. Observing the branches of the fig tree bending and swaying, he called out, “Hey! Who’s up in that tree?”

“Pay no attention,” Nasruddin called down. “I am only a nightingale.”

“A nightingale? If you are a nightingale, let’s hear you sing.”

The mullah, with a mouth full of juicy, ripe fig, made some strange noises.

“What kind of nightingale are you?” the owner demanded. “Nightingales don’t sound like that.”

“I’m an inexperienced nightingale,” Nasruddin replied. “I only started today.”