It was now determined that on this fine morning they should at once begin to ascend, so that hereafter no one should be able to say, I could easily have flown much higher, but the evening came on, and I could do no more. On a given signal, therefore, the whole troop rose up in the air. The dust ascended from the land, and there was tremendous fluttering and whirring and beating of wings, and it looked as if a black cloud was rising up. The little birds were soon left behind. They could go no farther, and fell back to the ground. The larger birds held out longer, but none could equal the eagle, who mounted so high that he could have plucked the eyes out of the sun. And when he saw that the others could not get up to him, he thought, why should you fly still higher. You are the king, and began to let himself down again. The birds beneath him at once cried to him, you must be our king, no one has flown so high as you. Except me, screamed the little fellow without a name, who had crept into the breast-feathers of the eagle. And as he was not at all tired, he rose up and mounted so high that he reached heaven itself. However, when he had gone as far as this, he folded his wings together, and called down with clear and penetrating voice, I am king. I am king.
You, our king, cried the birds angrily. You have managed it by trick and cunning. So they made another condition. He should be king who could go down lowest in the ground. How the goose did flap about with its broad breast when it was once more on land. How quickly the cock scratched a hole. The duck came off the worst of all, for she leapt into a ditch, but sprained her legs, and waddled away to a neighboring pond, crying, cheating, cheating. The little bird without a name, however, sought out a mouse-hole, slipped down into it, and cried out of it with his small voice, I am king. I am king.
You our king, cried the birds still more angrily. Do you think your cunning shall prevail. They determined to keep him a prisoner in the hole and starve him out. The owl was placed as sentinel in front of it, and was not to let the rascal out if she had any value for her life. When evening was come and all the birds were feeling very tired after the exertion of so much flying, they went to bed with their wives and children.
The owl alone remained standing by the mouse-hole, gazing steadfastly into it with her great eyes. Then she, too, grew tired and thought to herself, you might certainly shut one eye, you will still watch with the other, and the little villain shall not come out of his hole. So she shut one eye, and with the other looked straight at the mouse-hole. The little fellow put his head out and peeped, and wanted to slip away, but the owl came forward immediately, and he drew his head back again. Then the owl opened the one eye again, and shut the other, intending to shut them in turn all through the night. But when she next shut the one eye, she forgot to open the other, and as soon as both her eyes were shut she fell asleep. The little fellow soon observed that, and slipped away.
From that day forth, the owl has never dared to show herself by daylight, for if she does the other birds chase her and pluck her feathers out. She flies out only by night, but hates and pursues mice because they make such ugly holes. The little bird, too, is very unwilling to let himself be seen, because he is afraid it will cost him his life if he is caught.
He steals about in the hedges, and when he is quite safe, he sometimes cries, I am king, and for this reason, the other birds call him in mockery, king of the hedges. No one, however, was so happy as the lark at not having to obey the little king. As soon as the sun appears, she ascends high in the air and cries, ah, how beautiful that is. Beautiful that is.
Beautiful'beautiful. Ah, how beautiful that is.
The fishes had for a long time been discontented because no order prevailed in their kingdom. None of them turned aside for the others, but all swam to the right or the left as they fancied, or darted between those who wanted to stay together, or got into their way. And a strong one gave a weak one a blow with its tail, which drove it away, or else swallowed it up without more ado. How delightful it would be, said they, if we had a king who enforced law and justice among us, and they met together to choose for their ruler the one who could cleave through the water most quickly, and give help to the weak ones.
They placed themselves in rank and file by the shore, and the pike gave the signal with his tail, on which they all started.
Like an arrow, the pike darted away, and with him the herring, the gudgeon, the perch, the carp, and all the rest of them.
Even the sole swam with them, and hoped to win the race.
All at once, the cry was heard, the herring is first, the herring is first. Who is first, screamed angrily the flat envious sole, who had been left far behind, who is first. The herring, the herring, was the answer. The naked herring, cried the jealous creature, the naked herring. Since that time the sole has been punished by having been given a mouth on one side.
Where do you like best to feed your flocks, said a man to an old cowherd. Here, sir, where the grass is neither too rich nor too poor, or else it is no use. Why not, asked the man. Do you hear that melancholy cry from the meadow there, answered the cowherd, that is the bittern. He was once a cowherd, and so was the hoopoe also, I will tell you the story. The bittern pastured his flocks on rich green meadows where flowers grew in abundance, so his cows became wild and unmanageable.
