“Here comes The She,” the Rooster though in his tiny little chicken brain. He straightened and shook out his feathered garments. He began to cluck softly and scratch at the dewy grass. Spotting a lost morsel of corn he picked it up and rattled off a series of chirps, determined to get The She’s attention.

She always brought him a special piece of hard bread. One of the males had once called it a ‘cracker.’ In the same breath, he had mentioned something about, ‘spoiling that rooster,’ but human words made no sense.

Her soft cooing voice settled upon his ears as an angels comforting song. He did not understand a thing The She said, however, he longed for her visits. There was always a special treat when She came.

The one thing he did associate was when She would sing, “Talk to me,” and he would echo with his most impressive crowing. The She would then toss him an extra handful of goodies and he understood this was what She expected.

Other commands were lost on him. So, proudly he stood, watching.