I have a beautiful farm in the country. It lies near the silver river and a thick hedge protects the courtyard, with tall poplars to keep off the strong winds of winter. In the yard the hens and ducks are free to wander searching for food. All day long they scratch and poke amidst the dirt and dust, seeking any grains that might have been forgotten when they were given their daily corn. “Cock a doodle doo!” That cry comes from the fine bird with the haughty air. He is the rooster, the king of the courtyard, the most important bird there. All day he struts about, his head high and his spurs bent, ready to fight. In front of him a group of hens, with feathers like weeping willows, cluck and chatter in the dirt. Every day is much the same. The rooster and hens spend their time scratching and searching in the yard, all rushing to the fence with a great clacking noise when the farmer’s wife comes to feed them. [download]
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