Lamington hopped down from the roost, fluffled her feathers and then, with closed eyes, stretched her neck as far up as she could and rocked her head from side to side. She opened her eyes, fluffled some more and looked around the coop. She turned her head in a slow 360-degree turn, pausing occasionally to tilt her head slightly before continuing her scan of the coop. Everyone was still asleep, even Butterscotch.
Lamington jump-flapped up a roost as quietly as she could next to her sisters. All three of them were still sleeping and, judging by the movement behind closed eyelids, they were all dreaming happy, energetic dreams.
“Pssst,” whispered Lamington without getting a response. She hopped closer to Licorice. “Psst,’” she whispered again. Still nothing. She shuffled in even closer, put her beak right in Licorice’s ear her and in her loudest possible whisper said, “PSSSSSST!”
“BERGURK!” cried Licorice as she fell from the roost with a thud.
“Bless you!” muttered Chocolate, half asleep.
“Pipe down will ya!”
“Yeah, keep it down over there.”
“You keep it down.”
“I’ll keep you both down if you don’t shut up.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Right, you’re all going down.”
“I’m already down; thanks to someone sneezing very loudly in my ear.”
“That’s it! I’m awake now. No going back to sleep for me,” said Speckles. “A small sleep-in is better than no sleep-in. Am I right Kids?”
“Let me get this straight,” said Lamington. ‘Everyone was sleeping in this morning?”
“That’s right,” said Fudge. “You must have missed the meeting yesterday. But don’t worry, just go with flow.’
“So, every chicken gets to sleep in?”
“That’s right. And no eggå laying either. It’s a public holiday,” said Fudge.
“A chicken – public – holiday!” said Lamington, slowly sounding out each word as she tried to get her head around the idea.
The main event of the Chicken Public Holiday was a big midday feast. The chickens spread out across the orchard and the lawn searching for their favourite snacks. Instead of gobbling them straight up, they were collecting bugs, seeds and plants and bringing them to a spot under the apple tree. Miracle and Red Chook were busy tidying up by clearing way leaves and sticks and leveling off the ground. Everyone brought their contributions and the two older chickens organized them into a banquet around the trunk of the tree. By mid-morning there were piles of worms, beetles, slater-bugs, moths, and spiders along with thistles, blades of green grass and other assorted delicacies.
The four youngest chickens were doing circles around the apple tree trying to decide where to start.
“OK,” said Speckles.
The four young chickens took a step toward the feast.
“Ok. Great job on the food preparation; it all looks positively scrumptious. Now everyone go spruce yourselves up. I want this to be the best-preened flock anyone has ever seen.”
The four young sisters couldn’t believe their ears; or console their stomachs that were rumbling louder than Goldie announcing her latest egg. They reluctantly found a dry spot, right beside the apple tree, and set about quickly dusting themselves down. They were back in front of the food in under a minute but had to wait a whole hour as the other chickens repeatedly dusted themselves, preened every feather and soaked up the morning sun.
When the rest of the flock finally came back to the apple tree the four young sisters had set themselves up directly in front of their favourite foods. Lamington chose the milk thistles, Licorice was eyeing off a pile of wriggling worms, Butterscotch was breathing in the smell of a half-rotted apricot and Chocolate was keeping a big black beetle from escaping to its freedom.
“Every one has really outdone themselves,” said Speckles. “You all look spectacular, though you youngsters could have put a little more effort in. And again: the food! Can I hear some appreciation for all the luscious, mouth-watering cuisine before us.”
A round of generous clucking filled the orchard and the chickens gave each other a nod of appreciation. By now the four sisters were almost standing on the food.
“As is tradition, before we tuck into this abundance of tasty treats, let’s here a few words from Miracle.”
The sisters sighed as another round of clucking brought Miracle up beside Speckles.
“Thank you Speckles. In recent years I have had the privilege of saying a few words before we start the meal. Now I know everyone worked hard preparing this feast and have built up big appetites, but I think it’s important to reflect on all the chickens that we have shared this special occasion with in the past that are no longer with us. I’d like to start by remembering my sisters who, as you know, were lost to one greedy, conniving Mr Fox. It was getting late…”
When Miracle had finished her moving and thorough account of all the chickens that had passed, in as much detail as she could recall, the eating began in earnest. The rumbling stomachs gave way to high-spirited chatter about the scrumptious smorgasbord every one had contributed to. They ate, and ate, and ate until no one could move any further than the nearest sunny spot and lay down to rest their happy, contented stomachs.
As the sun moved closer to the tall gum trees behind the coop, and all the chickens had recovered from eating a weeks worth of food in one sitting, the games began. With no work to be done the afternoon was filled with friendly competitions.
The talent competition was one highly entertaining act after another. Everyone agreed that Pea Hen’s impression of the big human collecting eggs was a perfect likeness. Ginger and Fudge sang a moving ballad they had learnt together as little chicks. Speckles did freestyle raps over the funky sounds of Red Chook’s beat-boxing skills. The four young sisters performed acrobatics that had the older birds entranced and reminiscing about limber limbs. But it was Smokey’s stand up comedy that took out first prize. When she delivered the punch line to, “Why did the human cross the road?” the whole flock clucked so loudly with laughter that the horses bolted to the other side of their paddock.
Goldie won most of the other competitions. By the time the sun began to set she was crowned champion in; The Sprint Across the Yard, The Loudest BERGURK, The Highest Roosting Position, The Orchard Obstacle Course and Best Plumage.
The coop was full of happy chatter as the chickens settled down on the roost. Chocolate completed one last, accidental, back flip off the roost as she tussled with Licorice over where they would sleep. Lamington giggled to herself as she recalled Smokey’s jokes. She drifted off to sleep dreaming of what she would perform at the talent show for next years Chicken Public Holiday.
