A Press Announcement and the Journalist

Mule stood at the center of the line during the press announcement. His freshly scrubbed coat shone and his ragged whiskers, which had been trimmed to a tidy inch, barely hid a cut on his upper lip. The birds tittered to see such a fine specimen of leadership and the monkeys commented about how tall he was compared to the other animals. His supporters nodded their satisfaction on the choice of the chairmanship.

Mule bayed out the roles and duties of each committee member, as well as made a long speech on how critical each of those roles were in ensuring the success of the investigation. Political analysts, both professional and amateur press as well as government broadcasting journalists clamored to return to their offices to write out their say about what the appointments meant as well as forecast how it would affect the outcome of the investigation.

The roosters of Feather Trends gushed about his shiny coat and strong presence. MonkeyBiz mentioned his imposing figure and confident voice. The parrots of Jungle Herald listed the names of the committee members and their designation as well as mirrored Mule's speech on how each of those roles would affect the outcome of Owl's interrogation. Everywhere else animal after animal spewed, barked or chirped their opinions in line with the news they had read to anyone who would listen.

A journalist, Stefolous from the Tortoise Express, however, felt that something was not right. He studied the press photos again. Why couldn't he match the words to the pictures. The donkey had a cut on his lip. Had that cut always been there? He shifted through the sixty plates again and again. Then when he had gone through each for the fiftieth time, it suddenly occurred to him that there was not a single picture showing Vixen standing next to Mule. He had followed Mule's political career long enough to know that the donkey liked to have his pictures taken next to females because it made him appear to be a leader who believed in the ability of the feminine kind.

Stefolous hunkered inside his shell and began to think. He thought deep into the night, then he dozed and he woke up and he thought some more. Finally he decided to request for an interview with Tortoise under the pretense of asking him about the hyacinth control program in Pitchmold Pond. 20 new hatchlings choked on the roots of those plants last year and it was still an area of contention for their community. By mid-afternoon his assistant, a dung beetle who was sent to Tortoise's place with a letter that morning, returned with a reply. Yes, Tortoise agreed to do an interview on the issue.

Saturday morning turned out to be a perfectly humid and warm day. Once Tortoise had settled in the mound of leaves prepared for him, Stefolous pulled out a sheet of questions, which was actually one single question that was asked in different ways about the same issue.

Stefolous cleared his throat. "I must apologize Minister Tortoise. I have made you agree to the interview under a false pretense."

Tortoise cocked his head to one side, and asked, "What is this interview really about then?"

Stefolous noted the direct question, which was unusually hasty for their species. So he opted to reply with the same manner of directness. "I would like to ask for your real opinion concerning the assignment of roles in the investigation committee."

"Mule has already explained the matter to the press. There is very little I can add to his announcement."

Stefolous's heart jumped: Tortoise had agreed to the interview. He asked, "Did everyone in the committee agree to their offices?"

"Mule and Rat are passionate about their roles."

"How did the rest of the members feel about their part?"

"The duties are light and far in between, so Macaque will be visiting his family next week."

"Will Vixen and yourself be away too?"

"Yes, we plan to catch up on family and friends."

"Do the three of you plan to take leave often during the course of the investigation?"

"That will depend on our roles."

...and so the interview went, until the following Sunday morning. After a light breakfast of ripe bananas, Stefolous returned straight to his office and immediately wrote ten pages of his point of discussion with Tortoise and then wrote another two pages of conclusion. That evening a frog complained to Rat that an immense number of tortoises were flooding her pond and clouding the water her tadpoles were living in.

There was only one way to find out why the normally non-herding species would group together. Rat ordered his assistant to obtained a copy of the most recent Tortoise Express. The newsletter that he had often used to cure his insomnia kept him awake with livid rage that night. He could do nothing about Tortoise, but there were things he could do to Stefolous.

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