[at-l] A fable

[Cleo <scwolf@together.net>]

Splash!!! Hi Everyone! I feel like a duck that just escaped the hen house
and the dominant rooster therein. Here's the little story: Once upon a time
there was a very appealing henhouse. It had lots of roosts, cracked corn, a
water fountain, a nice dust bath, and lots of feathered freinds. The
feathered freinds were a mixed bunch, many were simple hens who liked to
eat and scratch and lay eggs in the comfy nest boxes. Some were quite
interested in thier plumage and preened and strutted a bit. Among those was
a growing young rooster named Featherhead. He had been hatched at a big
feed store, and was touted there as a showbird, sure to be magnificent.
There was quite a lot of competition among the cockerels at the feed store
and often this was acted out with storytelling, but ocasionally a smaller
bird would get hurt. When Featherhead came to the henhouse he had quite an
idea of what a boss rooster had to do. During the day he strutted among the
hens. If a dog came into the yard he would fly at it with talons
outstretched. If there was a squabble among the hens he backed the one that
had positioned herself so nicely for him earlier that day.  Soon the hens
knew what Featherhead liked and what he could do for them if he chose. Many
of the flock began to anticipate his desires and when a squabble broke out
would back the hen they knew he favored. At night before sleep they would
tell stories abut the elite birds closest to the great rooster who could
wheel as one like a flock of swallows. When Featherhead puffed out his
chest and threw back his head to crow, they all ran around excitedly
pecking at the lesser birds. Once when a squabble broke out over a tasty
green frog some hen had found, one of the rooster's favorite hens took the
frog, "Because," she said "I lay fertile eggs!"  Featherhead and his
wingleaders smiled at that, but one little chickie said it wasn't fair, and
was driven away for saying so. Another hen, who had been watching the young
cock's rise to fame and power snorted and began to squawk. She squawked and
squawked until Featherhead began to tremble. When he realized he was
trembling he feared others might notice and think him weak. So he opened
the gate to the yard with great deal of effort, which annoyed him no end as
he missed his breakfast for it, and began to chase the squawking bird. She
gave him a run for his money, spilling the cracked corn, tipping over the
water fountain, believe me, feathers flew! All the while she sang the story
of how the flock was before Featherhead, how she had known everyone to get
along, how the pecking order was unacceptable. Finally he drove her out the
gate, and several other hens escaped in the frenzy as well. He collapsed
against the gate, shutting it behind them. They ran through the tall grass
to a lovely pond with cattails in it and discovered they were quite at home
in the water, and they still got cracked corn to eat every day. The end.
Footloose
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