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1st Place: Sierra Dudas, Arizona
2nd Place: Carolyn Travis, Indiana
3rd Place: Tyler Lucas, Ontario
Runners Up:
Cade Bock, Arizona
Kailee Morrill, Missouri
Ellie Stoller, Michigan
Shelby Zivny, Nebraska
Honorable Mention:
Samantha Bartolo- Colorado
Katie Benson, Minnesota (2 stories)
Ian Bolin, New York
Teagen Bolin, New York
Isaiah Durand, Missouri
Brittany Haskins, Michigan
Summer Haverick, Vermont
Beau Hobba, New South Wales Australia
Noah Konsavage, Kentucky
Addie Vaughan, Colorado
1st Place:
Sierra Dudas, Arizona
"The Case of the Out-of-Control U.F.O."
Hi! My name is Gertrude McCluck, and I am C.I.C. (Chicken In Charge) here on Gerny Acres Farm. My job here on Gerny Acres has led me on some unusual cases, but this is the most "egg-citing!" It all started when I overheard Chickadee gossiping, (not that it was unusual), and I overheard her say that there was a U.F. O. On the ranch!
Hmmm...Where should I look for clues? I know! I'll go talk to Skittles. As I neared, Skittles came trotting over.
"Hi Gertude! I just chased off two squirrels and a rabbit!"
"Good for you, Skittles." Skittles is not only the farm dog, but he is also a secret spy. "Have you seen anything unusual?"
"Not really. No wait, I saw those squirrels and that rabbit. They were ready to take over, and I said, "Not with me on the job! I totally chased them off..."
"Thanks, Skittles." You need to cut him off, otherwise he will go on and on.
"And then, Gertrude, I..."
"Bye, Skittles."
I decided to go and visit Hermes. Maybe he'd have some information to digest in my bird brain like I was "Munch" digesting the "Munch" scratch "GULP."
"Hello, Hermes."
"Hello, Gertrude. Did you know that your grass is better than our grass? It's because..."
"Yes, I know Hermes, you talk about it every time!"
"Yeah, I know but it's an interesting topic."
"Let's get to business, Hermes. Have you seen anything unusual?"
"No."
"Nothing flying?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No. Wait, yes!"
"Really? What did it look like?"
Well, it was flashing, and it was blue."
"(Gasp!) There really is a U.F.O. on Gerny Acres!"
As I walked back to the coop, I saw Julia, our farmer, come out of the shed. Hmm...what is she doing? I decided to look around. (Gasp!) Julia has the U.F.O.! How could she have caught it? Why isn't she keeping it locked up or taking it to the F.B.I. (Feathery Bureau of Investigation)? "Bock!" She let it go! She just flung her arm out and let it go! Catch it! Somebody catch it! Skittles caught it!
"Go Skittles! Catch that U.F.O.!"
"Well actually it's a..."
"It's an amazing feat, Skittles! You are upgraded for catching the U.F.O.!"
"It's not a..."
"Talk to you later, Skittles!" Wow, he is amazing! I wonder how he did it?
Here comes Julia. Why is she so calm? Doesn't she know that there's a U.F.O.?!
"Hi Dad," said Julia.
"Hi, Honey. Do you like your new Frisbee?"
Frisbee, what's a Frisbee?!
"Dad, do you want to play with it?"
"Sure."
Julia got out the U.F.O. Wait, could that be a Frisbee? It is a Frisbee! (My highly superior bird brain figured this one out!)
Well, this is Gertrude McCluck closing out. Bye and see you here on my next case with me, the C.I.C.
2nd Place: Carolyn Travis, Indiana
Carolyn Travis and Chess |
Carolyn Travis with Dove and Heart |
Next Stop 1886
2004...
"Today is a beautiful day to announce our winner of our annual National English Class Competition. We have a Buff Orpington and a Black Australorp who are in it to win it! They both are very high classed exhibition birds. The Buff Orpington simply looks stunning! There is nothing wrong with the Buff Orpington. Now the Black Australorp has one problem. She does not have enough green feathers. In the American Standard of Perfection the Black Australorp has more green feathers. The winner is the Buff Orpington! Congratulations to the Buff Orpington, Dawn!" Judge Mindy says.
The Black Australorp, Evalia, madly looks at the judge and walks home. When she arrives at her coop she makes a vow that she will get back at the Buff Orpingtons. She makes a plan to build a time travel portal. It will take a lot of time to build but she wants to make sure that the Buff Orpingtons will never see another season.
2011...
Evalia proudly looks at her gray time travel portal. She sets the year to 1886. 1886 is when William Cook established the Buff Orpingtons. She wanted the Buff Orpingtons to be deleted forever. She sets the place settings to Orpington, England.
Cock-A-Doodle-Do! A proud rooster sings early in the morning. Gertrude McCluck wakes up and looks up at her rooster, Chuck. Chuck is a Buff Orpington. Gertrude is a mix between a Buff Orpington and a Buff Cochin. She mostly looks like a Buff Orpington and chickens mistake her for a full-breed Buff Orpington. Gertrude hears a loud noise and walks outside. She sees a large blue light coming from her neighbor's coop. Gertrude races over and sees Evalia, her neighbor, jumping into a portal. Gertrude jumps in after her.
The Portal takes the two chickens to William Cook's house in 1886. Inside the house is an egg that supposedly has the first Buff Orpington. Evalia runs inside the house and finds an egg. She grabs the egg and starts to run off with it. Gertrude catches her and chases her all the way to the bridge. When on the bridge Evalia says, "You and your Buff Orpington friends will soon be gone forever."
Evalia throws the egg over the bridge. Gertrude gulps and dives for the egg. The egg makes a splash and sinks to the bottom. Gertrude picks up the egg and drags it to the surface. Quickly Evalia squishes the egg and out comes an egg yolk. The egg was William Cook's breakfast! Evalia stole the wrong egg! Gertrude lets out a relieved sigh and pushes Evalia into the river. Quickly Evalia floats down the river and is never heard of again.
Gertrude runs to the Portal and returns home. Gertrude saved the breed of Buff Orpingtons and now she can finally relax.
3rd Place: Tyler Lucas, Ontario
The Braggarts
Hello, Poultry Pals.
It's autumn, and the Fall Fair is past and gone. But still my Chicken-In-Chargely thoughts turn to a conversation I heard in the poultry barn. There were lots of very nice breeds of duck there, as well as some factory crossbreds and a couple of new breeds that waterfowl fanciers were working on. I especially remember 4 fine old ducks grouped together on the same shelf. In the middle there was a fifth duck, a new breed duckling. He was still fluffy. He was so cute. He sat there quietly while the others started bragging about themselves.
"I'm a Kromsnavleend," the first braggart started, "But you amateurs might know me as a Dutch Hookbill. My ancestors come from the Netherlands, dating back to the 1500's." He held his head up high. "That makes me the oldest living breed in the Northern Hemisphere."
Then the drake next to him started bragging.
"You think that's heritage?" He said. "Ha! Reliable people say that I'm the oldest breed of duck, living or dead, in the whole world. I'm a Bali. Your heritage is nothing like mine."
Then the duck across from him started promoting her breed.
"Well I'm an Elisabeth," She said. "We may be a young breed, but we lay 350 eggs per year on average. And bigger eggs than the Campbells lay, too. I think purpose is more valuable than age, don't you think?"
And then the duck next to her started talking about his value.
"What are beauty, utility and heritage when you can't survive a simple frost?" He started. "I'm a Shetland. I'm a landrace from one of the harshest environments on earth! Surviving is in my blood." Then he looked at the little duckling, who was beside him. "And what about you?"
"Well," the duckling answered, "I don't know what I am. My daddy is an Orpington. I don't remember what my mama was. I haven't seen my mama in a really long time... Mama told me about the fair when I was little, and how she always wanted to win a ribbon. I come from the farm down the road and I'm almost a month old. Every morning the farmer opens the coop door and he lets us run loose all over the farm and eat as much grass and worms as we want. I wish my mama could watch me win a ribbon."
Later, all of the older ducks had won ribbons. The duckling had fallen asleep. The other ducks looked at each other, and then one-by-one put their ribbon on the duckling's cage. I, as C.I.C., wouldn't tolerate such arrogance as the ducks had earlier, but I don't think they'll ever feel arrogant again.
Runners Up
Cade Bock, Arizona
The Big Pig Mystery
Hey! I am Gertrude McCluck, Chicken in Charge at Gerney Acres Farm. It is not easy being the C.I.C, but someone's gotta do it. One day out on my morning walk patrolling the farm, I decided to go and visit my best friend, Hermes the Horse.
"Oh Gertrude!" cried Hermes, "Am I ever glad you're here. Early this morning as I was munching my grass, Julie was bringing in a crate and..."
I cut him off groaning, "Not another crate mystery?" I inquired.
"Oh no," said Hermes quickly. "There was definitely something in the crate. It was brownish black with spots of pink. It looked like a Ninja!"
"A Ninja!" I exclaimed. A real Ninja? Right here on the farm? Can you believe this?
"Yes, I saw it with my own two eyes," Hermes said. "Maybe you should go talk to Skittles and ask if he's seen anything."
"You're right," I said excitedly. So I strutted off to visit my other friend, Skittles. When I arrived at Skittles' doghouse he was resting in the shade.
"Skittles," I whispered. "Skittles," I said a little louder. "SKITTLES!" I clucked at the top of my lungs.
"Huh? What? Where? Oh, it's just you Getrude."
"Yes, it's me," I said feeling annoyed. "I was wondering if you saw anything...unusual...this morning?"
"Why yes, I have!" exclaimed Skittles. "Just a little while ago I overheard Julia saying that we have an animal from the P.I.G. species. It is Top Secret."
Hmmm, I thought to myself. If it's a member of the P.I.G.'s we've got here, this must be a pretty serious case.
Skittles added, "It made a weird noise, something like ‘oink'."
"Thank you Skittles," I said. I decided the only way to figure this out was to meet this P.I.G. myself.
Just as I was approaching this P.I.G Julia shouted, "I am going to clean the pig sty."
"THE WHAT?!" I clucked. So now this Ninja P.I.G. was a spy too? What next? I approached the P.I.G. with caution. When I had a good look, I shouted, "Ah ha! We know you are a P.I.G. Just admit it!"
"Uh, yeah, I am a pig."
I just knew it! We also know that you're a Ninja and spy for the P.I.G.'s!"
"A Ninja? A spy? What are you talking about?"
I am talking about your secret identity!" I clucked again.
"I am not a spy or a Ninja," said the pig.
"Oh yeah? What's your name?"
"My name is Plumpy McOink," he said calmly.
"Then explain why my friends and I saw you in a Ninja suit, and why Julia called you a spy?"
It probably looked like a suit because I rolled in the mud," suggested Plumpy. "See how this pen is filled with mud? It is called a pig STY. You probably just heard her wrong."
"Oh, I understand...I think," I said. "Say, how would you like to be friends with Skittles, Hermes, and me?"
"I would love that!" Plumpy snorted. And so ended another one of my fantastic farm adventures.
Kailee Morrill, Missouri
Gertrude Saves the Day
Kailee Morrill and goose |
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I settled into my seat, ready for the long flight to Rome to visit my quill pal, Minerva, a Dorking. I grabbed my latest Backyard Poultry magazine and began to read. Several hours later the airplane landed and I got off. Waving her wing in the terminal was a plump silvery green hen squawking, "Over here, Gertrude! Right over here!" I waddled over and in a few minutes was at her coop, with the local poultry welcoming me.
After dining on polenta and getting introduced, Minerva took me on a little tour of the city, while we chick-chatted. After looking at the Coliseum we headed to the ruins of the temple of Juno. On the way, we were startled by the sound of honking and hissing. Two white geese were fighting in front of a statue entitled The Dying Gaul.
I brushed my way past a group of pigeons and clapped my wings. "What's going on?" I demanded.
The larger goose stepped forward, stretched a deep orange colored foot and a white wing, ruffled her feathers and said, "I'm a descendant of the geese that saved Rome!"
"No," said the smaller goose quietly, "I am."
"No, you're not!" hissed the other goose, her blue eyes flashing angrily.
"By the way," Minerva announced suddenly, "this is Gertrude McCluck, Chicken in Charge. She has solved lots of mysteries. Maybe she can solve this one."
"All right," said both geese.
"Don't worry, ladies, I'll get to the bottom of this," I clucked. I took a good look at the two geese and noticed they both had blue eyes and white plumage. Then I pulled out my trusty spyglass and examined them more closely. After noticing some more clues, I replaced my spyglass and plugged the clues into my birdy brain. Rattle-rattle-buzz-ding!
I pointed to the smaller goose with my wing. "She is the true descendant of the geese that saved Rome!"
How did Gertrude know?
Answer: Gertrude knew that it was the Roman Tufted (or Tufted Roman) geese that saved Rome when their honking alerted the guards in front of the temple of Juno. What Gertrude noticed is that the small goose had a tuft and pinkish red feet and legs, whereas the big goose had orange feet/legs and no tuft. The big goose was an Embden and the small goose was a Roman Tufted. Therefore, the small goose was the descendant of the geese that saved Rome when the Gauls invaded between 300 and 400 BC.
Ellie Stoller, Michigan
Gertrude Solves the Protein Problem
Ellie Stoller & Chickory |
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One warm and breezy, spring morning, Gertrude McCluck finished her breakfast and stretched her wings. Gertrude was feeling broody. She walked to the farmer's machine shop where she had secretly been concealing her eggs for two weeks. She counted her eggs. "One, two, three...eight, nine, ten. Hmm, I was expecting 14. I wonder what's wrong. Maybe I'm molting." Gertrude murmured to herself. She stretched out her wings. "Nope, all ten primary feathers accounted for. I'm not molting. So, what's wrong?"
She sat down on her eggs and pondered the problem. "Now that I think about it, the mill feed does taste a little different. I reckon the mill messed with the protein ration and that's why so many chickens are getting culled and I'm not laying an egg a day like usual. I better fix this or my chicks will end up in the stew pot.
"How can my chicks get more protein? Fishmeal... yeast...grasshoppers...earthworm," Gertrude talked to herself. "Earthworms! I could raise earthworms! They are full of protein. All I have to do is go outside and mix the rabbit manure with leaves. When it rains, I'll shove the down spout over to moisten the manure. The real work is to find 200 worms to grow and reproduce. I'll easily be able to do that in the 21 days before my chicks hatch.
"Oh, no! What about my eggs? I can only leave them for 15 minutes a day. I'll never be able to collect worms that fast. What shall I do?" Gertrude pondered.
"An incubator!" Gertrude exclaimed. "That's what I need. I will make my own incubator. I'll need a box, heat, and humidity."
Gertrude hopped off her eggs. She looked around resolutely. There on the shop floor was a throw-light, left "on" by the farmer who had gone in for lunch. Quickly, Gertrude pulled the throw-light under the brush hog to hide it. "Here's my heat. Now for a box."
Climbing up to the storage area of the shop, she discovered a lid off an old Styrofoam cooler. "Here's my box. Now all I need is some water for humidity."
Gertrude hurried to the barn. She found the cat's water dish. "Eureka!" she shouted as she shuffled back to the shop pushing her prize.
Underneath the brush hog, Gertrude carefully constructed a nest of straw in the lid of the cooler. She pushed the cat water in by the nest. Finally, she hung the light above her eggs. "I have my incubator. All I have to do is turn my eggs twice a day. That will leave me plenty of time to see about those 200 worms to solve the protein problem for my perfect peepers," Gertrude happily proclaimed.
Shelby Zivny, Nebraska
Poultry Wars
Shelby Zivny and her Cochin |
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On a farm not so far away, many feathers were ruffled as an unexpected crisis happened one night. All the chicken feed was stolen!! As Annikan Skysquaker went to get his breakfast with his hen Padme`Ameraucana, they saw the feeding trough was COMPLETELY EMPTY!! Not even a crumble left. Skysquaker quickly scurried off to tell the American Poultry Council about the robbery.
"Who could have done this?" Mace Wyandotte clucked.
"Get to the food supply, only a Java can." Wise master Ancona said.
"So what do we do?" asked Skysquaker. "How do we find the thief?"
"Gertrude McCluck, we must find." Ancona concluded.
Count Dorking studied the coordinates to his hiding roost. The coop of Genoa was a perfect hiding place where he would never be found.. There, he could take his feed and not be disturbed. He loaded his ship and set a course for Genoa.
Meanwhile at the coop of Croissant, the clucking had gotten around that there was NO FOOD!! Annikan Skysquaker went to find his master, Obi-Wan Cochinobi.
"Master" Skysquaker exclaimed "Have you heard the news?"
"Yes" Cochinobi said.
"I talked to the Poultry Council and they said we must find Gertrude McCluck"
Skysquaker told Cochinobi. "Will you help me find her?"
"Sure Skysquaker. But we must hurry, she is our only hope!" Cochinobi replied. They first went and told Ancona who was teaching the chicklings, that they were leaving and will stay in contact. Then they went to the hanger and hopped on their Chicken hawk fighters and flew out to find the investigator, Gertrude McCluck.
"Where should we look first?" Skysquaker asked Cochinobi.
"Well, we should try the coop of Kasheek" Cochinobi replied and they took off toward Kasheek.
When they landed they flew from the hawk fighters and searched. But it came to be that Gertrude was not there.
"Let's try the coop of Tattoo, there is lot's of crime there" Skysquaker said.
"Good idea" Cochinobi said. "Let's go".
They arrived at Tattoo and it was easy to find McCluck for she was investigating a crime scene not far from where they landed.
"Excuse me, Gertrude McCluck?" Cochinobi asked.
"Yes?" McCluck answered.
"We need you to come with us, we will explain everything on the way" Cochinobi replied. They ran as fast as their feet could carry them to their fighters.
When they arrived at Croissant, they took McCluck straight to the crime scene where the feed was stolen. She examined the featherprints, talon marks and the eggpad that controlled the lock. Then she had a conclusion.
"I have dealt with this criminal before, Count Dorking" she said.
"Where is he now?" Skysquaker asked.
"Coop Genoa" replied McCluck.
They told Chancellor Orpington and he sent cockerels to escort Dorking back to Croissant to be placed under arrest.
In the end Padme` Ameraucana gets broody and sits on two eggs, and Skysquaker crows with happiness. The chickens of Croissant were no longer starved because Gertrude McCluck placed Dorking behind bars.
Honorable Mentions
Samantha Bartolo, Colorado
The Mash Thief
Samantha Bartolo & Ollie |
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It was a late summer afternoon, and the heat was almost unbearable. I made my way out to the backyard, careful to step around the knocked-aside chicken door. The chicken door was something the Farmer put in the coop doorway when he let us out in the yard. It was a board that had a small square cut out at the bottom, so only us chickens could go in and out. I found the knocked-aside chicken door strange, but it had been that way everyday lately. The situation completely left my mind as soon as I saw the emerald green grass. Delicious!
The backyard was paradise, but halfway through my dirt bath I couldn't help but notice a group of hens that were making quite the racket. Being curious, I went to investigate.
Twenty or so unhappy chickens were gathered around a smaller chicken in the middle of the cluster. The chicken in the center, a Rhode Island Red named Ollie, looked scared.
Debbie the Delaware who stood next to me yelled, "Don't lie Ollie! We know that you're the one stealing the mash! Look how big you've gotten lately! You've been in the coop eating while the rest of us are out here!"
"Everyone! Quiet!" I squawked, "Ollie is innocent until proven guilty."
The hens started to quiet down and leave. I approached Ollie. "Ollie, I believe you. You're much too small to pop the lid off the food bin, and since you were hatched in early spring, you're not getting big from the mash, you're simply growing."
"Thanks, Gertrude, but the other hens still suspect me." Ollie said.
"They won't if we find the real thief!" I reply. "I'll figure this out."
By sundown, I was still puzzled. I sat on the roost, considering suspects. None of the other hens could have possibly done it; we were all too light to pop the lid off. Raccoons, foxes, and cats wouldn't want to eat the food. It had to be something small enough to fit through the chicken door, which was the only way in. Or was it?
"I've got it!" I squawked, flying off the roost. "Everyone, your attention please! Ollie, come on down here." Ollie joined me down on the coop floor, and I began. "Ollie here has been accused of sneaking in the coop and eating the mash while we're all outside, but she's innocent." Everyone gasped. "I have evidence of who really did it! Lately, I have noticed that the chicken door has been knocked aside. Another animal in the yard pushed it open. And what's the only other animal in the yard with us? That's right, the dog. It's been pushing the chicken door aside to get into the coop and eating our mash."
The coop was silent. Then Debbie stepped forward. "Sorry Ollie. I was wrong to accuse you."
Soon the air was filled with apologies for Ollie. "Three cheers for Ollie!" someone yelled.
"Thanks so much Gertrude." Ollie gave me a big wing hug.
I winked at her. "No problem."
Katie Benson, Minnesota
Gone!
Katie Benson |
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As the cock crowed his first and most magnificent crow of the day, I, Gertrude McCluck awoke on the low and wobbly roost. It took me a second to remember why I had roosted here. I was in charge of my niece, Gabby's hatch-day sleepover party. I looked at Gabby's friends. There were two of them. Jo the Barred Rock and Lily the Buff Orpington. Our flock was comprised of Buff Orpingtons in fact. Oh, I almost forgot, that makes me, as the oldest, the Chicken In Charge (C.I.C.).
Sighing softly to myself, I flew off the roost. I walked over the fresh straw to the nesting boxes. I silently got into the one on the end. Not only was this where I laid my eggs, this is also where I store my detective tools and today, Gabby's hatch-day present. As the C.I.C. I had solved a few mysteries around here. The tools included - my spyglass, pen, notebook, crime-scene tape, and a Sherlock Holmes story for reference. As I brushed aside the straw and opened my secret trap door, I knew something was wrong. The spyglass was gone!
As I checked for clues I found only one thing; a buff feather. I knew it couldn't be mine because I always keep my secret compartment clean. That left six more birds- Henry, Babs, Rose, Chick-a-Dee, Gabby, and her friend Lily. I didn't think that either of the two youngsters would take my spyglass, so I hurried off outside to find Henry.
"Henry, " I blurted out as soon as I saw him, "Did you sweep over the dirt in front of the coop yesterday?"
"As a matter of fact I did, last night before I roosted," he replied in his deep, cock-voice, "and there aren't even many foot prints on it yet."
"Thanks Henry," was all I managed to say before I ran, roadrunner style, all the way back to the coop.
There I found only three sets of footprints. I identified mine as the ones that looked like they were in a hurry, and another set as the large prints of Henry. The last set belonged to Babs, who had a crooked toe. As I looked around I saw her scurry into the bushes, quietly I followed.
When I entered the bush I thought I had caught the suspect red-handed, but as I stumbled and snapped a twig, Babs looked up from a nest on the ground. I suddenly realized that Babs wasn't a suspect after all. She just wanted a little privacy. Discouraged and out of ideas, I retired to the coop.
When I came to the coop door my jaw must have hit the floor in surprise. Gabby was studying a feather using the spyglass! As she turned to see me she gasped, "Oh, Auntie Gertrude, I'm so sorry. We're just playing detective!"
"It's okay, Gabby," I pulled out my spyglass. "Keep it for your hatch-day gift. "
Gabby smiled.
Katie Benson, Minnesota (2nd story)
Look Again!
"Ms. McCluck! Ms. McCluck! " Was what I heard as my eyes blinked open in the morning.
" What....five more minutes Mom and I'll eat my Brussels sprouts..." Was all I could summon up in my morning state.
"Ms. McCluck it's a mystery!" I snapped awake and was off the roost faster than you can say "cracked-corn". Around here I'm pretty much the best know hen sleuth. As I nearly flew out the coop door and into the yard, I pulled out my trusty spyglass. This baby had helped me solve quite a few mysteries.
My ears directed me to the caller, a plump White Leghorn named Skip. She wasn't alone. Six bright chicks meandered around us.
"What seems to be the problem?" I asked professionally
"Well I seem to be missing a chick," she whispered sadly "I know I had seven yesterday because Mr. Fudge commented on how they looked then. He said I had seven bright and healthy chicks."
After telling her that I'd figure it out and lending her a tissue, I reviewed my information. Mr. Fudge, who was a very portly goose, had always been good at math, so I ruled out a miscount, and a chick wouldn't leave its mother purposely, so I knew I had some work to do.
I went to interview old Mr. Fudge. The story seemed to revolve around him. As flagged him in from the pond I invited him to the coop for a chat.
When we arrived at the coop, he plopped himself down on the hay and began to look around.
"It sure looks different in here," he said to me. "Hey, I didn't know that you guys get straight corn to eat!" he exclaimed as he peered into the feed trough, "How unfair! We only get pellets!" he stormed on," Farmer Greg will hear from me for this," he hissed.
After that it went downhill. Mr. Fudge raged around the coop ranting. Finally the old goose squeezed himself through the chicken door and was gone. So much for a nice calm interview as I had hoped. Stretching my shanks I looked around the coop. No one else was in here. It seemed like the perfect time for a nap. I hopped onto the roost and snuggled down for a good rest.
Just as I was dozing off into the dreamy wonderland called sleep, I recalled the goose's tantrum, all over a little corn...
Then it hit me like a freezing wind in January, the chickens didn't get fed corn, other than an occasional treat, and I knew where the missing chick was!
I rushed out to Skip, who looked hopefully at me, and told her the good news. I told her to find her chick, we had to find Mr. Fudge.
After we found him on the porch I told them the whole story. I concluded that there wasn't a missing chick, Mr. Fudge just needs glasses!
The old goose blushed.
Ian Bolin, New York
Honk?
One morning as I was pecking for scratch, I heard a great deal of squawking. As it turned out Babbs had found a egg by the pond. It was exactly like any egg I had ever seen except size: it was huge. Even bigger than a duck egg. A few minutes later one of the hens suggested we try sitting on it. I did not think this was a wonderful idea because of some of my experiences setting outdoors. But four of the pullets, Fluffy, Puffy, Huffy and Duffy (they had all been hatched by one hen who was not good at naming) said they would try to hatch it. So I told them to get to it, but be careful. If they heard something coming to get away, after all setting outdoors is dangerous work. About a week later, I saw Fluffy running toward me screaming "Hawk, hawk, hawk!" As we headed for cover, I asked her to tell me what happened.
"Well I was sitting on the egg and this great big hawk swooped down and nearly caught me! After that I ran here ‘cause I heard you say to be careful. Aren't you proud off me?"
"Yes Fluffy, I am proud of you. That was the right thing to do. Now let's sneak down there and see if the hawk is still around." The hawk was gone and Fluffy was re-established on the egg.
The next week Puffy flew in shouting "Eek eek eek a fox!" As it turned out Puffy had gotten off the egg to eat a worm and been chased a long way away from the egg.
The following week it poured down the rain while Huffy sat on the big uncomfortable egg. When she finally came in she lived up to her name.
Duffy had to take over on the damp nest. She kept coming in for a snack complaining that working to turn that huge egg made her very hungry. We all thought she was making excuses.
I was certain the egg would never hatch. Multiple hens setting on the same nest, lots of dampness outdoors, and their irregular hours and adventures, did not bode well for success. Besides, they had each already taken a week which put them well past the hatching date for a normal hen egg.
Then one day to my complete surprise, they all came flying in shouting, "It hatched, it hatched." The chick was apparently healthy except that it had webbed feet, a very large beak, and was, well . . . ugly! Several days later the hens came in to tell me that their chick was swimming and to ask my advice about it. I told them that it would continue to swim for the rest of its life and that I would try to find out if any geese in the area had lost an egg.
Teagen Bolin, New York
Gertrude and the Gang
I strolled along past the big beautiful maple trees with their bright fall foliage. I could see the neighbors' chicken coop a little ways ahead. They have a flock of all barred rocks. I had been there several times before. As I approached, their dog barked which brought the four hens to the door.
"Oh Gertrude! We are so glad you came," said Annie. "We have a mystery going on here."
"We have food disappearing!" shouted Pennie and Fannie together.
"I tell you someone is stealing it," Sadie groused.
Freddie the rooster stuck his head out the door above them and said "Humph."
"Please don't all talk at once! And tell me everything that has happened." I said, trying to calm the hens, as I made my way up the ramp and into the hen house. I could see this was going to take a while.
As soon as we were inside, Annie started in, "After the feed arrives each morning, we eat all we want, but leave some for snacks later in the day. Then we go outside and hunt around for bugs and other yummies. Then day before yesterday, we came back and it was all gone."
"It was gone again today!" pointed out Pennie.
"And yesterday too," cried Fannie.
"Have any of you seen anything suspicious?" I asked.
"I have, I have!" shouted Sadie. "I couldn't catch any grasshoppers yesterday!"
I decided to interview Freddie the grump. I might get some sense out him. I found him staring intently at the empty feeder. "I want to ask you some questions", I said.
"Well, I'm listening."
"Do you know anything about the missing food?" I asked.
"All I know," he grumbled," is there is no food and I'm hungry."
Obviously, I was on my own in this case. I decided to go outside and search for clues. Outside I saw a flock of sparrows sitting in a maple tree. I tried to interview them.
"Ppppsst!" said one sparrow turning his back on me. Another yelled "Shut up you fat flightless trash." Two of them began fighting. The rest ignored me completely. Trying to speak with sparrows always gives me a headache.
I looked for clues, but the only thing I noticed was that the coop windows were open and the vents closed. I went back inside and examined the bedding around the feeder. Just as I thought, the culprits were that flock of thieves in the maple tree. "Freddy," I said. He was still staring at the empty feeder. "Do you see these sparrow droppings by the feeder?" I asked. "They are getting in by the windows when you all go out bug hunting. Get the windows closed and use the vents again and you shouldn't have any trouble unless that thieving gang decides to come in the pop hole.
"Just let 'em try it!" exclaimed Freddy, looking like he'd welcome a fight.
Isaiah Durand, Missouri
Special Foxx News Report
"Hello, this is Kai Oty, reporting via satellite from Foxx News, about to interview the first woman president of the United States of America, Miss Gertrude McCluck, chicken in charge, for the first twenty-one day wrap-up. Hello Miss President, how are you today?"
"Very well, thank you."
"Good. Well, first I want to ask you, Miss McCluck, about your campaign trail. How did you win?"
"Actually, it wasn't hard, egg-specially after everyone realized all the other candidates were turkeys!"
Kai Oty started licking his lips, but continued, "Well, how did you like your first day as chicken in charge in the Oval Office?"
"The White House was rather confusing at the beginning, you know, with such big wings. I'm used to only two small ones! But I love the oval shape of my office, which reminds me of something, though I can't remember just what quite yet. I'm thinking of painting the inside bright yellow."
A little saliva fell from his lips as Kai resumed, "We heard that on your first day as President you were faced with a crisis. Could you tell us about it?"
"On my first day there was a red alert, so I called in General Cluster. He said the peasants were planning a coup, and he wanted take a stand. But word came that it was a mistake, and that it was only some pheasants planning to build a new coop."
"Miss President, I understand that you've proposed adding another amendment to the constitution giving chickens equal rights under the law. You have already lowered taxes on most things, but you more than doubled the tax on Kentucky Baked Chicken and Chick-fa-lee. Is that really appropriate?"
"Are you accusing me of fowl play?"
"No, no. I was just wondering why you did that. By the way, next time could we interview in person?" And he started licking his lips again.
But Miss McCluck declined, for there was something unsavory about Foxx news reporters.
Brittany Haskins, Michigan
Izzie's Wild Imagination
From the Perspective of Gertrude McCluck
The coop was buzzing with excitement one mild Halloween afternoon, not because of the anticipation of sweet treats and trick-or-treating, but because today was the last day that we would be able to do some real exercising. (Snowdrifts are too deep for poor chickens like myself to wade through, you know.) See, we walk every Halloween evening to the backwoods to take our annual "hike." Now you may be wondering, "Why the evening?" The answer is because these feathers are like wearing a coat, no matter how hot or cold it is outside. The evenings are cooler, so it works out better for your feathered friends like me.
"Okay, quiet down everyone!" called Chocolate over the clucking, crowing and squawking of the coop member. "Now, I would like to remind you that you need to select a hiking buddy in case of an emergency. Have any of you done so in advance?" Her beady brown eyes landed on Izzie as she spoke, and we all knew why. She is one of the wildest chickens that have probably ever been know to the world, which goes along with her imagination; she thought her first egg she ever laid was a pickle. A bit on the wild side, really.
"Yep, I am going with Lacey," said Speckle loudly and clearly. Lacey nodded as she snacked on scratch.
"And I'm going with Booklet," said Missey.
"Do remember to bring snacks," Chocolate said.
As usual, the coop filled with the shouting of, "I am going with so-and-so." But no one said, "I am going to be with Gertrude." I was sure no one was going to choose me; at least until Izzie came up to me and said, "G-Gertrude, will you b-be my hiking b-buddy?" Her voice naturally shook when she spoke.
"Sure," I said with a false enthusiasm. Did I have a choice? It was either her or don't go at all and I really needed the exercise.
When the sun was low on the horizon, I packed various treats in my hen-bag; some of my favorite scratch, some corn, and some bread from the people house (It is called a house, right?). I was ready to go, so I headed out to the woods and found Izzie right next to the path.
"H-hello Gertrude," she said.
"Good evening," I said, and together we walked into the woods.
"You don't think t-there will be were-chickens in here do you?" asked Izzie.
"No, no, don't be silly," I said.
But then there was a howl. "What was that?" asked Izzie.
"Nothing," I said, trying to stay calm. There was another howl.
"Were-chickens! Were-chickens! Run!" shouted Izzie.
But just as she began to dash away, Vanilla popped up from behind a bush. "Happy Halloween!" she said, and Izzie froze.
"Vanilla!" she said, "You scared me!"
"Yeah Vanilla, I didn't know this was supposed to be a haunted walk!" I said.
The walk continued smoothly, and it was one I would never forget.
Beau Hobba, New South Wales, Australia
Egg Eating Disease
"Eeekk, my beautiful eggs, all destroyed," chirped one of the hens miserably.
I awoke instantly and then wandered over to all of the commotion.
As I got there many hens were standing around horrified, as they saw their precious eggs wrecked. The elder chicken spoke up, "Whoever did this much of been of a wild animal, as none of us would do such a thing." I moved in to get a closer look. With my magnifying glass out, I inspected the broken shells intensely and looked at the bite marks to discover the egg had been pecked. "I believe, no wild animal has wreaked these eggs, but a chicken by the looks of the bite, or should I saw peak marks." The hens gasped in disbelief as the elder spoke up, "but, who would do such a thing?" "No chicken would do this on purpose, they would have a disease called egg eating, when it eats one egg, it will want to eat another and so on."
In the corner Babs was shuffling around nervously with her face hidden in her feathers. I thought to myself, why Bubs was so worried, since she was moulting, when she usually stops egg production for a while. "Babs, can you come here?""Sure," she whispered glancing to her side. With my magnify glass out I noticed yellow stains on Bab's beak and crest. "I believe we have our culprit," I announced to the crowd. "Bubs, why did you eat the eggs?" said the elder in an angry voice.
"Once, I cracked one of my eggs and had a curious peck, I soon demolished the rest of it and moved on for more," Bubs said shaking." "Bubs I know a cure for this, all it needs is time."
"Yes" Bubs said enthusiastically. "Go outside, to a quiet place and this will help you." "Okay" Bubs said racing outside.
"Do you think it will work?' the elder said dramatically. "No, it was just a distraction." With a flap of my wings I continued, "No-one lay tonight please and also make sure Bubs is near plenty of water when close to the nesting box. ""What are you going to do?" asked the elder. "You will just have to find out."
At night I went to the nesting box and laid a large egg. I then drained all its contents leaving the shell intact. Next I filled it with my special, hot mustard sauce and rolled the egg into clear sight ready for Bubs to eat. I went to the perch and fell asleep, exhausted.
In the morning I checked the nesting box, to find the egg gone. I strolled over to Bubs to see her blowing fire, as she quickly gulped down water." "I will never go near an egg again, except of course my eggs," Bubs panted. "Thanks Gertrude for your help, I don't know what you did, but it worked." I cluckled to myself and patted her wing, "Did you like the mustard?"
Noah Konsavage, Kentucky
The Rooster Ring Training Fight
It was a calm, fall afternoon with a perfect breeze that blew away the heat and brought the leaves off the trees. Gertrude was having a great time shuffling and kicking through the leaves, when, all of a sudden, she heard the neighbor Suzie squawking, "Help! They're killing each other! Somebody, help!" Gertrude looked across the meadow to see Suzie dancing around two of her cockerels who were fighting fiercely. Gertrude dashed over and demanded why they were fighting. They stared at her for a minute, and finally Henry answered, "We weren't fighting. We were just practicing."
"Practicing!" Suzie yelled. "You were about to kill each other! I'm glad I stopped you before one or both of you got hurt!"
"Aw, come on! We're practicing for the Rooster Ring Training," complained Bob.
"What is this Rooster Training thing?" inquired Gertrude.
"Why, it's awesome!" exclaimed Bob.
"It is rooster fighting training," added Henry.
"The young roosters are being trained to protect the flock by learning different fighting techniques, but I don't want my babies to fight. They might get hurt." Suzie explained tearfully before bursting into sobs.
"That sounds neat and very beneficial," commented Gertrude. "It is very useful to have young learn to protect the others. Danger is a thing all chickens face. You will have to get over it, Suzie."
At that moment, there was a loud series of crows.
"The practice has started! Let's go!" shouted Henry as he and Bob took off towards the chicken yard.
"There they go," moaned Suzie as she started heading that way herself.
"I'm coming too!" shouted Gertrude.
By the time they reached the chicken yard, all the action had started. The Rhode Island Reds were training the young roosters how to use their weight against a foe, while the Bantam Silkies were showing them how to maneuver around the enemy. The Brahmas, by the coop, were showing them how to dodge kicks, pecks, and hawk attacks.
All of a sudden, there was heard a shrill squawk coming from the edge of the field. All the chickens looked across the field. A small Leghorn was dashing across the field, pursued by a large grey cat! All the chickens started running-some towards the coop, others towards the cat.
The cat caught up to the chicken and sprang onto it, but the chickens caught up to them both. The chickens jumped, clawed, pecked and piled onto the cat. The cat was so scared it ran back into the woods! Every bird was okay. After Suzie stopped scolding her "babies" for running after the cat, Gertrude asked her, "Now do you see the importance of learning to fight?"
"Yes."
Later that day, Gertrude was enjoying the fresh breeze, while looking for bugs in the leaves. She was having the time of her life, when all of a sudden, she heard a squawk. "Not again!" Gertrude thought as she hurried off to see what was wrong.
Summer Haverick, Vermont
Summer Haverick & Elly |
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A Small Case of Zombie
*Buzz* *Buzz* What the...?
I jolted awake as a noisy mosquito flew past my beak. Really? That's the third time this week! This mosquito has ruffled my feathers too many times while I, Gertrude McCluck, have been trying to get a good nights rest. All well, might as well get up and make my C.I.C (Chicken In Charge) rounds.
I peered out of my nesting box to check on my fellow coop mates. I had been on duty most of the night, so I wouldn't be surprised if everyone is asleep. Unlike me.
Babs. Check. Rose. Check. Elly. Check.
Wait, am I still dreaming?
I looked into Elly's nesting box again. Empty. Except for her stray feathers moving in the night breeze.
Elly is our newest Buff Orpington pullet in the coop. Very nice girl. But she has been acting mysterious lately.
I break out my trusty spyglass to look for any leads. Nothing. The slight trace of bedding disturbance on the coop floor is all I had to go by.
I followed the prints out of the coop. I stepped into the open as the night air ruffled my plumage. Elly's trail led into the forest. My only choice was to report back to the coop and send out search parties. I couldn't risk going into the timberland alone. Too dangerous.
I reach the coop safely, wake up the girls, and feed them the news.
"I can't believe it Gertrude!" said Babs. "She just got here."
"I know." replied Wenda, one of our top breeders. "Maybe she just didn't like us and decided to fly the coop."
Ronit, our Rhode island red cockerel stepped forward.
"I don't believe it. It just can't be true, can it? I mean she was always nice to me. She even admired my starting crow.....I just..." Ronit's comb drooped. He was in love with Elly, ever since she came.
"Hey Ronit. It's ok. We will find her soon. I just know--"
"EEEEECKKK!!!" The ear piercing sound quivered the whole joint. Everyone stood in silence. My beak dropped.
"Someone HELP MEE!" screeched Elly as she walked into view. Her comb was encased with scabs. Her voice was changed and uneasy. And she walked like a chicken back from the dead!
"ZOMBIE! EVERYONE RUN!" yelled a hen in terror. Then it was insanity. All the chickens were shrieking as they flew up to their roosts to get away from the monstrosity that was walking towards them. I ran toward the roost, but stopped in my tracks. There is no such thing as a zombie! It all makes sense now! So I took the riskiest move I ever made in my whole detective career, I walked toward her.
How did Gertrude know Elly wasn't a zombie?
Answer:
Elly all along had a treatable disease called Fowl Pox, which is caused by mosquitoes. Gertrude noticed she had been acting funny, because she hasn't been eating right. Then one night she got up because she was getting hungry. When she came back, the irritation in her throat made Elly sound different and her scabs made her look like a zombie.
Addie Vaughan, Colorado
Gertrude McCluck, Chicken in Charge's Minute Mystery
Addie Vaughan and Jellybean the Ameraucana chicken |
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I was deep into my mid-day nap when I was awoken by the sound of Babs talking to herself.
"That's a good little baby. Mommy loves you! Mommy loves you!"
I quietly slipped outside through the coop door, not wanting to interrupt that crazy chicken.
"Who's a good little egg? Who's a good little egg?"
I settled outside next to my other friend Rose, who seemed very annoyed that morning.
"Hello, Rose," I said, hoping to get her mind off of whatever was troubling her.
"Hello? Ha! How could this be a good day for ‘hellos' when that crazy chicken, Babs is talking to her eggs all day and wakes the rest of us up!"
Ah. I saw the problem now. Rose needs exactly eight hours of sleep, or she gets really... cranky.
"Rose, are you feeling a bit... tired?" I asked. As C.I.C. it's my job to keep everything calm and running smooth.
"Tired? TIRED? Of course I'm tired! I only got seven hours and thirty-nine minutes of sleep! That's twenty-one minutes short of eight hours!" Rose puffed up her feathers angrily.
"Rose, it's not the end of the world," I said.
She settled down. "You're right," she said. "Can I let you in on a little secret?"
"I don't know Rose. Secrets lead to gossip. But, if it's important to you..."
"Oh, yes, it really is. To be honest, I'm worried about Babs. All she's done today is talk to her eggs, just talk to them as though they can hear her."
"Rose..." I began.
"I mean, I'm really worried. Like, more worried than that time that the coyotes were right outside the coop door, and threatening to come in, but that rooster..."
"Rose," I tried again.
"And then the cow came and..."
"ROSE!" She stopped in mid sentence.
"I mean, aren't you worried?"
I smiled. I knew I had no need to be worried.
Answer: When chicks are still in their eggs, their mother chickens actually do talk to them tenderly, and the chicks can hear them. Mother chickens have said to be the most caring mothers in the world, so Babs isn't that crazy.
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