He was the mighty rooster, a god among his kind. His voice could be heard
for miles around, announcing every sunrise. He was handsome, proud, and
arrogant. The hens would gather around to admire his large comb, his
iridescent black feathers, his well formed beak, his muscular legs, and his
gleaming eyes. He was altogether perfect. He would strut around the yard
for hours, fluffing out his feathers to look as large and powerful as
possible. After all, he was the mighty rooster. He allowed no other rooster
near his flock. He had a favorite hen, a beauty, with dark feathers, and
slender legs. She was exceedingly agile, could outrun, and outfight all the
other hens. There was a smaller, light colored hen that spent all her time
with the dark one. She couldn't stand the rooster. He thought it was
probably just jealousy. Sometines at night he would roost beside his
favorite hen, and the light one would have to sleep on the other side. She
would squawk and scold, but he would ignore her completely. After all, He
was the mighty rooster.