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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Kind (10/17/24)
The sun had slunk over the snowcapped mountain and drawn its fiery rays down with it before Mommy and I left the henhouse by the light of our flashlights. The hens chaotically devoured their supper as though it was Black Friday. Poor Goldfinch, one delicate little Easter-egger, had to be separated from her bully sisters. They had torn so many feathers from her that her skin showed on much of her wings and back. In some places, cuts had given way to blood. Those blood-thirsty, cannibalistic, heartless scoundrels would stop at nothing once they saw blood. They would surely kill her if they got their beaks on her.

Though we dared not separate the poor bird from her ‘friends’, we had to protect her from them somehow, so we placed her in nicely furnished cage with sufficient food and water for the night in the corner of the henhouse. We checked and double checked the wire gate and scouted out the entirety of the cage to be sure there were no holes or weak spots by which the hens could break in.

Now, I have often said that gates and fences are only for honest critters. No fence in the world can stop a determined chicken. At this time, we could only hope the hens would decide to be honest for once. Having done the best we could, we turned out the lights and returned to our house.

When at last morning came, we entered the henhouse to attend to the morning chores. When we opened the door of the henhouse, lo and behold, the cage was packed tight with a multitude of rogue chickens! Among them was Goldfinch.

“You crazy chickens! Leave her alone! You are almost as bad as people, picking on a poor, helpless bird!”

As we hastily scanned the predicament, we noticed a peculiar situation. Mr. White, the big, fat, fluffy, White Plymouth Rock Rooster, had also lumbered into the cage and stood as a colossal pillowy barrier between his dear lady Goldfinch and the blood-thirsty scoundrel miscreants. Now this fellow, Mr. White, was not exactly… shall we say… lean. Due to his large size, those giraffe-like necked stinkers could not reach over him to attack Goldfinch. Thus, they had not harmed her that night.

We hastily tossed out those cruel hens. Once the danger was past, Mr. White slowly and gracefully meandered out of the cage, uttering his deep, throaty voice in goodbye to his lady. She eyed him gratefully as the gentle giant departed from her presence. The kind king had no doubt saved her life that night.

“Good Job, Mr. White. You sweet rooster, you saved your little hen, didn’t you.”

Mr. White clucked in his deep voice as I stroked his soft white feathers. Though his superior, King Midnight the Beautiful took charge of predator patrol, it was the gentle Mr. White, who saved a hen —from the hens.

(Based on true story)
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This article has been read 332 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 
10/31/24
Oh my, this was such a delightful read. You pulled me in right away with the conflict and held my attention right to the end. I wasn't sure what to expect and you didn't disappoint one bit. This was a great read from beginning to end.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 
10/31/24
Congratulations on your EC! Happy Dance!
Jack Taylor 
10/31/24
Your analogy is too often true in the world of people. Oh, for more Mr. White's.