I’m a hen and I live on the flat, open prairie with yummy oat grass. A time back not so long ago, I sat on my nest of eggs and thought. Cluck! I need a better way to eat! Hungry, I bustle from my nest to pick up the scattered seeds or scratch for juicy bugs while watching for gliding hawk. I listen for prowling fox or sneaking bobcat while drinking at the creek. Then I scurry back to my eggs to keep them warm.
I watch as my chicks scratch for bugs and seeds while hiding under the thistles. Always we are in danger. “Cluck! What to do?”
Then while scratching for seeds among the tall grasses, I heard, “Swish! Swish!”
“S Q U A W K! RUN, CHICKS, RUN!”
I was sure hawk found us. Looking up I saw a stock of dried oat berries swaying in the wind. I pecked that stock of seeds down and tucked the stock under my wing.
“Come! Cluck-cluck.” I called my chicks. “Cluck!”
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