This Little Chicky Stayed Home

I have a nice little gray hen that set about to hatch some chicks. Every day she sat on her nest. It was nice and dark and secluded, just like she wanted it. Well, eventually two of my little gray hen’s eggs hatched. Clucking protectively, mother hen left the nest. Under her were two very tiny little chicks. She led them about the farm, teaching them to eat, drink, and observe all things that she commanded them.

By and by the chicks grew old enough and smart enough to take care of themselves, and so my little gray hen headed back to the nest to hatch out some more chicks. As she settled herself down on the cozy little nest she became aware that she was not alone. There, snuggling up to her side, was one of her half-grown chicks. “Mama,” she said, “Here I am. Right where I belong.”

Every day my little gray hen sat on her nest. Almost every day the half-grown chick snuggled at her side. Occasionally she would leave her mother and cautiously step out into the sunlight. She would tiptoe here and there looking for her brother. Some days she found him before something scared her. Some days something scared her before she found him. Either way she was soon back by her mother’s side, saying, “Mama, it’s good to be back.”

Well, eventually two of my little gray hen’s eggs hatched. Clucking protectively, mother hen left the nest. Under her were two very tiny little chicks. Halfway under her was her half-grown chick which was about as big as she was. She led them around the farm, teaching them to eat, drink, and observe all things that she commanded them.

But the half-grown chick that was about as big as her mother already knew everything that was being taught. Occasionally she would leave her mother’s side and cautiously step out on her own.

She would tiptoe here and there looking for her brother. But when she found him she did not know what to do. Her brother was so busy going here and there and doing this and that. With loud peeps the half-grown chick would go running, looking for her mother that was no bigger than she was. “Mama,” she would say as she pushed her head under the little gray hen’s wing, “It’s good to be back.”