From January through March I participated in a daily writing challenge – each day the people participating were given a new prompt and asked to produce a new piece. This is one of the selections from that project. The title is the prompt.

Old Chicken sees Still Fox. Dew glistening as dawn light falls on red fur. Still Fox is inside fence. Still Fox has crept through hole Old Chicken saw last sun. Old Chicken knows: first bird to leave coop today will die.

Unless Old Chicken squawks. This is the chicken way. Then other chickens squawk. Then Farmer comes. Then Still Fox becomes Running Fox. 

But Old Chicken makes no sound, instead turning to look at New Cock.

New Cock has been here five suns now, arriving a few suns after Farmer pulled Old Cock’s neck. 

New Cock, who already acts as though it is his coop. New Cock, who told Dappled Chicken she did not scratch for worms the right way. New Cock, who took Young Chicken, his beak pushing her neck to the ground, before Young Chicken was ready. New Cock, who clucked to Old Chicken, ‘old ways are gone ways,’ when she told him this was not the coop’s way.

So Old Chicken does not cluck loudly.

Old Chicken thinks.

Then Old Chicken rises. She walks to where New Cock is sleeping, pecking him gently from behind.

“Away, crone,” says New Cock.

“Sun coming. You must crow.”

“Leave,” he says, flinging hay back at Old Chicken.

“Sun coming. You must crow. Old Cock did not crow. Farmer did not wake. Farmer killed Old Cock. You must crow.” she clucks, deferentially. It is hard to humble herself. She does this anyway.

“Be gone, crone,” says New Cock, this time swinging his ruby cockscome to the other side as he pecks hard at her breast. She feels it. But she has seen many cocks, and knows to lower head. She knows to show submission, even if she does not mean it. 

It works. New Cock rises, and waddles out the henhouse door.

Then Still Fox becomes Haunched Fox. 

Haunched Fox becomes Leaping Fox.

Leaping Fox becomes Snapping Fox.

Snapping Fox becomes Sated Fox.

And Old Chicken, satisfied, ruffles her feathers. She sits back down in the hay. She knows old ways are the best way.