The Tale of the Little Red Hen

A heartwarming parable of triumph over adversity, a happy story with a sad ending ...

Once upon a time, long long ago, the little red hen awoke in her shed, along with several thousand other birds ... it was survival of the fittest and she wasn't really the fittest, but today was her lucky day.  It was mid-afternoon (it was really hard to tell as night and day weren't apparent in the shed, where lights shone brightly day in and day out) and the little red hen was plucked unceremoniously from the nesting box which she had escaped to, for a bit of peace and quiet ...

Thank you Daily Mail

The farmer took her and 2 other inmates (carried by their feet, upside down, in a most undignified manner) through the doors, where a small crowd of people were gathered, waiting anxiously.  The 3 little hens, dazed and traumatised were put into a large dog cage (oh, the shame!) and placed into the back of a car, while money exchanged hands.  Their new life was beginning ...

They were driven over bumpy roads, and from the confines of their new prison, could see rooftops, trees and blue, blue skies.  Eventually they came to a stop and they were carried in the cage into a garden where their new home was awaiting them.

The cage door was opened, and the little red hens stayed huddled in one corner for quite a long while ... then one ventured out, closely followed by the next and eventually Florence (the little red hen who this story is all about) tentatively emerged and surveyed her surroundings.  She had only ever walked on hard concrete, and the feeling of warm, soft earth beneath her feet was a strange sensation.  There was so much space, no jostling, no noise, except the sweet sound of birdsong coming from the trees.

Florence was a very sorry sight ... she was by far the worse of the 3 birds.  She was thin and scrawny, her comb flopped sadly, her behind was red and bald from being pecked by the other chickens in the shed.  The colour red attracts chickens, and it wasn't long before her new housemates, Maudie (Attilla the Hen) and her sidekick, Mabel made poor Florence's life a misery by pecking the red areas and making her bleed, creating a cycle of torment.  Florence was confined to a separate area of the henhouse, and gradually, with good food and fresh air, she flourished and filled out and rejoined her friends, but I'm sure you know the saying, two's company, three's a crowd ... this certainly applied in the case of this little gang.

Florence, at rear, Mabel and then Maudie, Top Hen

The rescuers were richly rewarded every day with beautiful brown eggs, the yolks the colour of sunflowers, and much tastier than those bought in supermarkets! The girls laid so many eggs, they had to be given away ... there was just no stopping them ... Except there was ... about a year after their rescue the egg supply dwindled, and more or less stopped altogether, because, Dear Reader. battery hens are regarded as machines for the first 12 to 18 months of their lives, and this constant production takes its toll.

A brand new henhouse was bought and placed in the sunny back garden, an area familiar to the girls and they moved into their new retirement home, but still liked to visit their old home on a daily basis, just to check it was still there.  One day, during their checking out process, they saw to their horror that 3 shiny sleek young hussies had decided to squat in their old home ... oh the horror was unspeakable! They ran to the kitchen door, banging on it with their beaks to alert the rescuers and tell them of this terrible event ... this went on for some time.

One sad morning, poor Maudie passed away, it was very sudden, she was Top Hen and leader of the little pack ... Mabel mourned her best friend, but Florence (who was secretly relieved) took her under her wing and they became bosom buddies, until Mabel joined Maudie, under Grandad's peony.

The rescuers had to make a decision now, integrate Florence with the 'squatters' or let her live her days out quietly and probably very lonely ...

Florence was having none of it, and flew onto the gate, in no-man's land, beyond which was her old home, and thought to herself  "if you can't beat them, join them" ... and so she did! Well my Dear reader, the change in Florence was remarkable, as the oldest and most venerable of this Hen Party, she became Top Hen and her leadership was legendary.  Always first out of the run in the morning, the others following her lead and instruction.  No-one dared touch food before Florence, they had to await her permission ...

And then there were three ... Florence had outlived her 2 counterparts, and one of the flighty young birds! By now she was about six years old, which is a good age for a rescue bird, considering the hard life she had had before.

Florence went to the big henhouse in the sky on Saturday after a short illness ... I am writing this story looking out of the window at my Dad's peony, which is just beginning to bud, the final resting place of a very fine hen ... she is sadly mourned by Audrey and Marilyn, who are finding it difficult to make a decision of their own and life has lost a little bit of colour as our hen flock of two is now monochrome. I am missing my little redhead who always ran to me in her mad fashion, at the slightest rustle of a bread bag.

Goodbye, sweet Florence ... Leader of Hens!

The moral of this story is that the underdog may one day reign supreme ...

Lots of Love, Claire xxx