Biggs and the Bird

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Things are a little different in the country, away from big city life. And their humor is a tad different too.

Submitted: September 28, 2017

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Submitted: September 28, 2017



Have you heard of Chicken-Little and her persistent allegations that the Sky was falling?

I really don't want to criticize, but seriously, have you ever seen a chicken look up at the sky? A Rooster might look at the sky when he is crowing, but a chicken's world revolves around what they can find on the ground to eat.

And that's another thing, Owls Hoot and many little birds Tweet, warble, and whistle. So why do they say Roosters Crow? Shouldn't they Cock-ah-doodle-do, or something? I mean, after all, what they do sounds nothing like crow sounds.

Which takes me back to the Crow, Crows don't Crow! They Caw and make other odd throaty sounds, none of which sounds like Crowing.

Anyway, I'm just say-in. 


Where was I? Oh yes, Chicken-Little, actually, talking chickens to be exact.

Now, it just so happened that a guy named Cecil Biggs was walking down a dirt road that meandered passed a farmer's house. Off to the side of the farmhouse and very close to the Tool Barn was a large chicken coop; one of the finest that he had ever seen.

Well, Cecil stopped for a spell to rest and to cool himself beneath the branches of a very large apple tree.  He plucked an apple from the tree and as he stood admiring the coop’s construction he spied a chicken.

The chicken was just pecking her way along, making her way beneath the white fence that separated the road from the farmer's property. Eventually she pecked her way right next to Cecil's feet and began circling him, pecking away at the ground.

As Cecil polished his apple with his shirt he heard someone say, "It is a fine Chicken Coupe, don't you think?"

Cecil was flabbergasted! First he looked all around to see if anyone was there, but no-one but the chicken was visible. He looked in every direction but saw no-one except the chicken, who was now seated on the ground amongst the grasses and fallen apples.

"Don't be rude Mr. Man, I asked a question and the least you could do is answer," the voice noted.

Cecil collected his thoughts as best that he could and replied, "Weren't try-in to be rude Missy, my name is Cecil Biggs and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. But I do declare that I have never, in all my days, talked to a chicken before. Do you have a name?"

"My name is Miss Penelope, and I am a Barred-Rock Chicken, good sir.

I find it odd that you have never talked to a chicken before, my Farmer talks to me all the time. He is the one that built that beautiful Chicken Coupe."

Cecil replied, "Well it surly is a fine Chicken Coupe, one of the finest that I've ever seen; that's for sure."

"My Farmer built it as a tribute to my long deceased ancestor, Chicken-Little, Miss Little was my Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Grandmother, on my Father's side of the family."

Cecil laughed a booming laugh and said, "Now you're just pull-in my leg, Chicken-Little is just a story. She weren't no real chicken!"

"What makes you think that she wasn't real and that the story isn't true? Well Mr. Cecil Biggs, what makes you think that?"

Cecil gathered his thoughts, which took awhile, and then he said, "Because chickens can't run around yelling stuff like, The sky is Falling, The sky is Falling! That is why I say that, my dear Miss Penelope."

"Well, Mr. Biggs, Don't you think I could do that?"

Biggs thought for a while and replied, "I'll be a Monkey's Uncle, I guess you could do that Miss Penelope. And if you can I'm guessing Miss Chicken-Little could too; please accept my apology."

Well the apology was accepted and the two chit-chatted for a while longer, then Biggs had to go.

As Biggs passed over a slight rise in the road he soon dropped out of sight.

And as soon as Biggs was gone a man slipped down from high in the tree with a basket of apples.

The man made a clicking sound and Miss Penelope ran to him without hesitation.

As the man scooped her up in his arms he said, "Well, my dear Miss Penelope, it seems that some people will believe anything.

And, of course, Penelope agreed.


D. Thurmond / JEF


© Copyright 2019 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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