The frogs led a simple, carefree life. When they weren’t frolicking on the banks of the pond, catching insects with their long, sticky tongues, they were underwater, sliding all over each other in a casual jumble of contentment. But some among them were not contented.

The pleasure left them cold. The closeness made them uncomfortable. They disliked the blurring of boundaries and wanted instead to distinguish themselves. “It’s all too ambiguous,” they complained. “We can’t even tell whose spawn is whose!”

The discontented frogs began to push back. Literally. When others came close, they kicked them away. There were cries of protest, accusations, confrontations. And soon dreamy confusion was replaced by conflict and chaos, and now everyone was unhappy.

“We need to restore order,” the discontented argued. “You just need to relax,” the others replied. About the only thing the two sides could agree was things could not go on that way. They decided to take their case to Zeus for judgement.

“Could you not sort it out yourselves?’ Zeus groaned, unamused by their petition. “The resolution needs authority—it has to come from above,” the frogs explained. “So you want someone to tell you what to do, is that it?” “Yes!” cried the frogs.

“You want a king, is that it?” Zeus concluded. “Yes!” cried the frogs. But Zeus was envious of their carefree lifestyle and considered them fools for disputing it. He tore a tree stump from its roots and tossed it into the pond. “There,” he laughed. “Let that be your answer.”

The stump king began its reign with a mighty splash that sent the frogs cowering in fear. But, slowly, they realised it was quite benign—and entirely inert—and the frogs resumed their easy ways, putting their king to use as both shelter and diving platform.

The discontented frogs loudly denounced this behaviour, but there was little they could do. It was clear this king would not resolve the conflict. So they returned to Zeus and demanded he gave them another king, one who commanded respect, one who didn’t just sit there.

Zeus did not take kindly to their indignant tone, but nonetheless agreed to their request. “You shall have your king,” he said. “You shall have the order and respect and action you desire.” Zeus then summoned a heron and sent it to the pond to become the new king of the frogs.

Now frogs are a heron’s favourite food and the heron king treated its subjects the only way it knew how—as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The frogs could not deny its will and not a single one survived to witness the sublime and tranquil order brought about by its reign of terror.

© Richard Parkin 2021