all the birds of the forest were sitting upon the branches of the trees， which had quite enough leaves； and yet the birds were unanimous in their desire for more leaves - the “leaves” of a journal； a new， good journal was what they longed for - a critical newspaper such as humans have so many of， so many that half of them would be sufficient.
the songbirds wanted a music critic， each for his own praise - and for criticism （where it was needed） of the others. but they， the birds themselves， could not agree on an impartial critic.
“it must be a bird， though，” said the owl， who had been elected president by the assembly， for he is the bird of wisdom. “we ought not elect anyone from another branch of animals， except perhaps from the sea. there fish fly， like birds in the sky， but that， of course， is our only relationship. however， there are quite enough animals to select from between fish and birds.”
then the stork took the floor and rattled from his beak， “there are indeed beings between fish and birds. the children of the marsh， the frogs - i am voting for them. they are extremely musical， and their choir singing is like church bells in a lonely wood. i get an urge to travel，” said the stork， “a tickling under my wings， when they begin to sing.”
“i am also voting for the frogs，” said the heron. “they are neither bird nor fish， but still they live with the fishes and sing like the birds.”
