The Rooster and the Fox, Part 2

(Releasing Part 2, appropriate for today and all that's happened this past week, month, the decade since January...In the meantime, it's helping me to remember the words of one of my favorite authors and teachers, Luvvie Ajayi Jones: "Community will save us. We are who we need.")

The Goddess Inari received many visitors. Mostly the farmers that worked the fields surrounding her temples. And being a goddess, she’d seen some things. She’d never had a visit from a trio of chickens, though. And given her scope of pantheonic duties – protecting the harvests – it was rare that she was asked to intervene in worldly politics. But for a few chickens to push through their complacency and actually ask for help, well, let’s just say she was intrigued. So intrigued, in fact, that she decided to take on this fowl tyranny herself rather than assigning it to one of her messengers. She’d told the young chickens exactly what to do and sent them back to the farm. 

A day or so later, a beautiful golden fox shape trotted out of her temple towards the farm down the road. As she approached, Inari’s silky golden fur dimmed into a rusty, almost wiry coat. She leaned out, making herself appear hungry, without looking starved. Checking the duck pond, she saw a reflection of a fox not young enough to be silly and not old enough to be wily. A rather mundane, country fox. She was surprised to find herself at the fence before any of the animals even noticed her. And when they did notice her, only a few of them took alarm. 

“A fox, a fox! Come to get our eggs,” a few of the chickens fluttered and squawked. It was May, Ray, and Lou. 

Strangely, none of the other chickens took up the call. Most of them pecked around the yard listlessly without a glance.  

‘Oh my. Things are quite as terrible as the youngsters told me if these chickens don’t even have the energy to be scared of a fox!’ Inari thought to herself and prowled closer. 

May, Ray, and Lou shouted louder and flew in short, panicked circles. 

“What’s all this?” came a loud crow from the center of the yard, “Who dares disturb my chickens?” 

Where once had stood a proud, handsome rooster with lustrous feathers and striking gold crest, tottered a bloated orange ball of bluster. Ron’s vibrant plumage had dulled somewhat, and his thinning crest had very obviously been groomed to flop with an impression of volume. The flock of chickens clustered around him.

“Oh, Master Rooster, I do apologize for disturbing your people,” Inari spoke up from a low bow, “I’m Kit, and I heard about a kingdom among farms and wanted to see this glorious place for myself.”

“You just want to eat our eggs. And maybe us, too!” one of the chickens yelled. 

“Who said that?” growled the rooster, peering around the yard. To Inari, now known as “Kit”, it sounded a bit like May, but May was nowhere to be seen. Kit stifled a grin at the hen’s cleverness.

“It’s true, we do have the best farm and only the best animals with us,” the rooster continued, chuckling and preening. The flock twittered and chimed in with a chorus of compliments for Rooster Ron.

“Please Master Rooster, I would never prey on those under the protection of such an imposing figure as yourself! Might I stay awhile and learn from you?” Inari asked, still bowed down. 

“Well, I don’t see why not. I have plenty to teach,” the rooster said, “Come along then.”

Kit scrambled up the fence then hopped down on the other side. Ron had already turned away, casually commanding one of his minions to show her around. The chicken rushed over to Kit and raced her around the yard, the coop, and the barn only to rush back to its leader as soon as chickenly possible.

Over the next several days, Kit nestled herself in among Ron’s followers. She helped them  gather fresh corn for him to eat his fill and then fill his hoard. She helped them bully the horses and oxen for hay, laying the extras in the hoard. She helped them shoo the “lesser” chickens away. And throughout the day, she trailed Ron, dropping sugared flattery in his ear. Ron, being Ron, of course, believed every word. After all, it was the story he’d been telling the entire farm for his whole life. 

Kit, embarrassingly easily, persuaded Ron that what he needed was a parade of the barnyard to remind everyone on the farm how lucky they all were to have him. They would all benefit from the opportunity to gaze on his glory and whatnot while he gave a rousing speech. Ron immediately set his entire flock to plan for the grand occasion.

The night before the parade, Kit convinced Ron that she was the only one he could trust to safely guard his hoard at night while he got his beauty sleep. She had those sharp teeth and claws, she reminded him and while she’d promised not to eat anyone, she hadn’t promised not to scare them off. Ron believed her. 

It was time for Kit to spring her trap. Late that night when the barnyard residents were asleep, Kit lay curled up on top of Ron’s hoard. Finally, she heard the rhythmic tapping outside – the code she’d made with May, Ray, and Sue. She quietly let them in. When they saw the hoard she’d been guarding, they immediately knew what it was. Sue started to squawk her outrage, but May sat on her head.

“Shhh! Don’t give us away now,” she hissed at her sister hen.

"Ok, ok, get off me, sheesh," Sue grumbled and then the trio of chickens settled down to plot the final steps of Kit’s plan. 

In the morning, before the sun rose, Kit slipped out of the hiding spot she’d been guarding all night and sidled up to Ron, flooding him with flattery and suggestions on how best to prepare for his big parade.

“You must eat more, King Ron,” she’d taken to calling him “King Ron” and not only did no one protest, but the entire barnyard had adopted the title for him, even if some were a little less enthusiastic. And now, they all echoed her pleas to eat. As Kit capered around him cajoling and complimenting, the sun came up before Ron had even made a peep. Some of the chickens exchanged glances but before they could say anything, Kit distracted Ron again.

“Here, King Ron,” Kit walked over to the rooster waddling away from his breakfast, “You should put this special potion in your crest to enhance its amazing volume and keep it in place for the entire show.” 

It only took Kit’s assurance that all the best roosters were using this potion before Ron commanded his chicken minions to slather it not only on his crest but also on his chest feathers. After all, why not enhance his puffed plumage, as well?

When Ron strutted to his place at the start of his chicken parade, he stood tall, with his beak in the air. Kit promised him he was the most imposing king she’d ever seen. By the time Ron began marching, his flock marching in rows behind him, the sun was high in the sky and quickly heating the air. While Ron marched, the maple sap Kit had given him began to melt and drip down through his coat. By the time Ron reached the pedestal at the end of his progress, the syrup had weighed his feathers down so much that couldn’t even lift his wings to fly. Still, his sycophantic flock hoisted him up to speak.

In all caps and nonsensical sentences, his crest flopping over his face to cover his eyes, and his stomach rumbling, Ron belched his way through his usual meanderings of being the greatest, most kingliest of chickens the farm had ever known, bringing the sun and the food to everyone. When he finished his speech, he stood on his pedestal dripping maple sap. In the silence before anyone had a chance to applaud, a neighing holler from the barn filled the air.

“LIAR! FRAUD! THIEF!” the horses yelled, stomping and kicking their stall walls, “LIAR! FRAUD! THIEF!” 

Then the sheep came running out bleating around the bunches of hay they carried. Then there was a resonant clang after the horses kicked once more, and a large tub came flying out of the barn scattering corn across the entire yard. May, Sue, and Ray flew out directly after and yelled like the horses, “LIAR! FRAUD! THIEF!”

“He’s been stealing from all of us,” May shouted.

“He’s been lying about there not being enough food and hay and hiding it all away for himself,” Sue hollered.

“And the sun came out all on its own while this lazy tom was gorging himself on our corn!” Ray announced.

The chickens shook their feathers and looked around as if waking from a long nightmare. Realizing it was all true, they erupted into a clucking mess and swarmed the corn scattered across the yard.

“My corn, my hay!” Ron hollered, once again, trying to lift into the air. By now the sap had coated his feet so he slipped right off his speech box and flailed around in the dirt coating himself with dust. 

By the time the feeding frenzy had stopped, and Ron had finally picked himself up, he looked like petrified poultry. The dust had so coated his throat that he could barely croak out his attempts to command the chickens back under his sway. But it was too late, the young chickens had already spread the word about Ron’s crimes and proposed a better way to run the yard where all the animals had a voice. 

Kit said her farewells to May, Sue, and Ray and slipped out during the excitement of Ron being deposed, transforming back into her golden fox form as she walked down the road satisfied the farm was once more as it should be. 

In the morning, the sun came up all on its own without any help from Ron’s rusty croaks, and before he could take more than a few bites of corn, the others drove him into a corner where he spent the rest of the day with hay stuck to the sap on his wings like some sort of chicken taco that everyone could finally see hadn’t ever been much of a rooster at all. 

The moral of the story is don’t believe the lies, especially the ones you tell yourself.

And also: don’t be a thieving, lying, fraud who destroys everyone’s lives for a little extra corn and hay – it never lasts forever.