Late on a September night, the chickens were preparing to chase away an opossum. Rosie, the brown Leghorn, was perched at the lookout tree waiting for the opossum to try and break in to the coop.

I, Gertrude McCluck, was standing by our catapult with Hermione and Sylvie, the golden laced Wyandottes. The silver laced Wyandottes, Jo and Twinkle, were scavenging for the perfect woodchips to catapult at the intruder.

Up in the tree to our left, Sunshine, Clover and Marigold, who are Araucaunas, were perched in the maple tree, their homemade bows drawn. They were going to shoot feathers at the opossum. On the ground nearby, Petulia and Jennifer the reds, had sticks with which to ward off the opossum.

Finally it came. The clear cry of Rosie telling us that the opossum had arrived home. Jo handed me a woodchip. I placed it on the very end of the board, held my breath and ran. I passed the woodchip, soon I was in the middle, then I was at the end. I jumped up and landed on the board. I watched as the woodchip soared toward the opossum. It hit him on the back and he turned. I heard bows twang. The feathers bounced off and the Jennifer and Petulia came over with their sticks.

I ran and jumped on the catapult again and again. The bows went twang, twang. Down on the ground, Strut the rooster was using his spurs to ward off the opossum. Finally, the opossum turned and ran. Now our eggs were finally safe!