The Frogs Who Asked for a King

There was once a great pond where the frogs lived exactly as they pleased. Nobody told them when to sleep or where to sing, and for many years they considered themselves the most fortunate creatures in the marsh. Yet, as so often happens to those who have nothing to complain about, they eventually began to complain about precisely that.

"Every other creature has someone in charge," declared an old bullfrog from the top of a rotting stump. "The bees have a queen, the wolves have a leader, and what have we got? Nothing but noise. If we had a king, there'd be order in this pond, and the other animals would finally take us seriously." The idea spread from lily pad to lily pad until it was all anyone could croak about. In the end, a delegation was sent to Jupiter, the king of the gods, to request a ruler of their own.

Amused by their request, Jupiter dropped an enormous log into the pond. It landed with such a splash that the water rose over the banks, and the terrified frogs dived into the mud, convinced that their new king was a giant. For a whole day, not one of them dared to come up. When at last a young frog peeked out, the king was lying exactly where it had fallen, perfectly still. Little by little, the others swam closer. Before long they were sunbathing on its back and, as their courage grew, jumping up and down on it and laughing.

"In my opinion, this is no king at all," the bullfrog announced. "A king who does nothing is worse than no king. Had we known he'd be this dull, we'd never have asked for him." Once again, a delegation was sent to Olympus, this time demanding a king who would actually rule.

By now, Jupiter's patience had run out. Not a word did he say in reply; instead, he sent them a heron. It stalked into the shallows on its long, thin legs, and before the frogs had grasped what was happening, three of them had been swallowed. It ruled exactly as they had wished: it was active, it was feared, and it was never still for a moment. Every morning it patrolled the edges of the pond, and every morning there were fewer frogs left to sing.

Desperate, the survivors sent one last message, begging Jupiter to take the heron away and give them back their quiet life. This time, the god barely looked up. "You wanted a king who would act," he said. "Now you have one. You should have been grateful for the one who left you alone." And so the frogs learned, too late, that it is better to be ruled by a log than by a heron.