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There was a great gathering of birds in the Cowslip Field, for they were all going to have a competition to see which one could make the most noise.

When all the birds had arrived, they stood in a long line ready to sing. Then they all began and each one tried his or her hardest to reach the highest note. Of course, the Lark, the Nightingale, and a few other birds who could sing beautifully did not make so much noise. They did not wish to spoil their lovely voices.

The wise old Owl from the barn nearby hard very kindly come to judge the singing.

By now the birds were all squawking and shrieking and making a most terrible din. But the wise old Owl could hear one bird right above all the others.

It had, he thought, a fairly good voice. Suddenly it changed to a terrible, harsh croaking sound. The birds stopped singing, and all fluttered round one poor creature lying on the grass.

It was the old Raven. He was quite exhausted, for he had shrieked and squawked too much!

At first the birds thought he was going to die and became rather frightened. Then one small Wren remarked that someone ought to fetch Doctor Pelican. A kind Swallow very quickly set off to fetch Doctor Pelican, who soon came with all his instruments and medicines in his big beak.

Doctor Pelican felt the Raven’s pulse very gravely and said that he was not dead, only very exhausted.

He then examined his throat and said, “His throat has suffered from too much shrieking and squawking, and I am much afraid it is very badly hurt. I will bandage it up, but I think he will be hoarse for the rest of his life, poor fellow.”

The prize was given to the Raven in the end, for the Owl thought he well deserved it. The prize was a splendid, big, fat worm.

The worm made the Raven feel a little better, but it was not good enough to cure his poor throat.

No, the Raven’s throat remained hoarse from that day. He could only croak, and not sing as he used to do. And from that day to this all Ravens have croaked, and so they will for evermore.

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