One hot summer day, I, Gertrude McCluck, was scratching in an old dust hole. I scratched something hard with my sensitive toe, which I recently hurt. I knew this was the familiar family dust area from generations ago, but I didn't know what this foreign object was. I called my friend Penelope the Polish hen (who is somewhat eccentric) and asked her what she thought this thingamajig might be.

She clucked several times before answering, "It must be a lunar space craft."

I did not agree with her. Since my toe was hurting, I called on my friends to dig it out. We scratched, packed, and dug for hours, we tried as hard as we could to dig it up from the ground. After working so long in the hot sun, we needed a rest. On our break, we each began to guess what this object must be.

"I think it's a chest full of the tastiest grain ever," said Becky the Barred Rock.

"No, no, no," protested Rocky the Rhode Island rooster. "It's a whole treasure box full of cracked corn."

When all the suggestions were over, we all had a good drink of water, then returned to our toil, only to discover a stone; a big, round, smooth stone. We went to bed that night very discouraged after such a hard day's work.

When the next morning arrived, to our surprise, Farmer Joe was kicking his heels in the air and whistling a tune called "The Ole Millstone," now I can mill all my own grain and corn without charge, and I can start up the old family business once again, Ole Grand Pappy's Milling Co.

Next thing we knew, we were eating our imagined treasures, all the cracked corn and best grain any chicken would wish for, every single day. What a reward for all that hard work.

Who would have guessed that big old stone would be a treasure to us after all?