Untitled Chicken Story

It was a beautiful day on the farm and Beth was a terrible chicken.

Of course, it was only those not in her presence that dare imply she was anything but a wonderful leader, the only hen deserving to call herself the Matriarch of the Coop.

It was undeniable that Beth was the cock of the walk, despite being a hen, as she fought and bullied and clucked her way to the top of the pecking order. All the other hens and roosters were beneath her and she made sure that they always knew it.

Wherever she cast her eye, the flock scrambled out of the way so they would not impede her view. What she was looking for, no one was really sure. If any could gather the courage to ask, she would cluck and admonish them for having pea sized brains. The last time a young hen implied they all had the same sized brain, well, no one really knows what happened to her.

This particular morning started as many others had before. Beth cooed and clucked imperiously as she slowly, elegantly, royally bobbed her way out of the chicken coop. Usually the last one up, but always the first to eat, she made her way down the plank and stared across her kingdom of dirt and hay.

Not seeing anything amiss, she nodded in approval and made her way over to where the four legged servants usually threw the feed. But alas, as she strolled up, it seemed there was none to be had. Beth froze midstep, her chest heaving with quick breaths as she assessed the situation. Surely this wasn’t happening, surely the flock weren’t so stupid as to eat everything before she had even awoken.

Her feathers fluffed up as she turned and screeched at the nearest chicken, deaf to the pleading and explaining cries that the food simply hadn’t arrived yet, that no one would dare eat before her, they sweared!

She rose up, deadly beak at the ready, her hunger turning to rage that would only be sated with blood, when a rooster cried out extra loud, pointing to the teal pony that was approaching with a familiar bag.

Beth looked over, confirming that, indeed, the stupid thing was simply late. She calmed a bit, but her feathers remained fluff in irritation. Didn’t those ponies know better than to annoy her with trivial things like being late for breakfast?

The pony opened the gate and stepped in, watching the chickens warily as she reached for the bag slung across her back and began to toss the grain into the yard. Beth clucked angrily at the pony, aiming to teach her a lesson for not only being late but for being absolutely terrible at throwing the grain. Honestly, it really wasn’t that hard, one would have to actually try to be bad at it.

Beth scratched her claws against the ground, preparing to charge, when a rumble in her stomach distracted her. She huffed, throwing a glare towards the confused mare before turning to the ground and searching for the best pieces to eat. Slowly, the rest of the flock followed, though they did still stay out of Beth’s way as she picked over the grain.

Beth’s anger soothed as her stomach filled, though flickers of irritation remained as she pushed her way through the crowd towards the fence, head on a swivel for the offending pony. For the second time that morning she stopped short at a sight she had never seen before.

The gate was left open.

Heart full of righteous fury, the brave hen set off on her crusade for justice, to teach a pony a lesson she would not soon forget.

It didn’t take her long to find her target, the brightly colored pony sticking out like a sore thumb against the softer and more natural colors of farmland. Beth clucked intimidatingly to grab the mare’s attention away from the waterspout she was fighting with.

The mare was either too frightened or even more stupid than Beth originally thought as she completely ignored the hen’s menacing approach. Beth could feel her earlier rage rising up again and this time she let herself ride the red hot waves.

Beth screamed, her wings open and flapping as she ran at the pony, who finally looked up and realized her impending doom. The mare blinked at the rapidly approaching chicken, head cocked to one side as if she didn’t understand what she was seeing. It wasn’t until Beth had closed in and delivered a mighty peck to her foreleg that the mare seemed to truly understand the danger she was in.

The mare shrieked and jumped away, rubbing at her injured foreleg. Her face scrunched up and she yelled something, but what it was Beth did not care to understand as she lunged forward for a follow up attack.

The mare screamed and started to run, jumping over various farming equipment in an attempt to escape. There was little hope though, as Beth was an athletic chicken, her tiny body filled with a murderous rampage that granted her even more speed and athleticism.

She was hot on the pony’s heels, screaming at her and the tail hairs that were just barely out of grasp of her beak. Just a little closer and…

The pony lunged at an apple tree, desperately scrambling up it as Beth approached. The chicken tried to jump up as well, her claws scratching at the tree bark as she tried to get just a little higher and reach her target. Alas, she was but a chicken, and all the desire for revenge in the world couldn’t get her up the tree.

Beth reluctantly sunk to the ground, letting loose a series of indignant squawks. If she couldn’t leave a physical reminder on the pony to never dare to be late with her food again, she would make sure the lesson was imprinted verbally.

Slowly, Beth began to wear down, her chest heaving as her mind scrambled to find other deliciously devious insults to hurl, but she was coming up empty. Finally, she had to admit that she said all that could be said, and began to settle down.

She turned her attention away from the pony and began to peck at the ground, taking this rare opportunity outside of her territory to scour for new bugs and treats.

Eventually, another pony wandered up and began to speak at the one in the tree, but Beth paid their conversation no mind, only raising her head once to deliver a final squawk towards the one who deserved it.

When the yellow one cooed and offered her back as a carriage, Beth decided that she had done her duty and done it well. Now was the time to return home, rest, and continue her glorious reign as Hen Matriarch.