The Rooster and the Fox

Once upon a time, on a sunny little farm, there lived a rooster who thought he was the absolute king of everything. And honestly, he kind of looked the part. He strutted around like he owned the place, lifting his feet high as if the ground was lava and nodding his head with every step. His feathers shimmered gold in the sunlight, and his red comb sat on his head like a crown. When the hens saw him, they whispered things like, “Oh, he’s so shiny!” and “Look at those feathers—he must polish them daily!”

Of course, the rooster loved all the attention. “Yes, yes, admire me!” he would cluck dramatically, flipping his tail feathers like a fashion model. But what he really loved, even more than showing off, was his voice. Every morning, before the sun had even thought about waking up, the rooster climbed to his favorite perch, stretched his neck, and let out a crow that could wake up the moon. "COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!" It was so loud that even the cows grumbled, "Really? Every. Single. Day?"

Not far away, in a forest full of shady trees and even shadier characters, lived a fox with a clever mind and an empty stomach. He’d been eyeing that rooster for weeks. “Look at all that fluff,” the fox muttered, drooling. “He’s practically a walking drumstick buffet.”

The fox had tried to catch the rooster before, but the bird always escaped. This time, though, the fox had a plan so cunning, he could’ve written a book about it. “How to Catch a Rooster for Dinner,” by Sly Fox. Bestseller material.

One day, the fox sneaked into the farmyard and hid behind a bush, waiting. The rooster was busy pecking the ground, mumbling to himself. “Worms for breakfast again? Ugh, where’s the variety? Maybe I’ll ask the hens to whip up a seed pudding…”

The rooster didn’t notice he was getting closer to the bush. But then—oh ho!—he spotted the tiniest glint of sunlight on something shiny. Was it treasure? No. It was the fox’s nose, sticking out like a bad disguise.

“Ah-ha!” squawked the rooster, flapping his wings and hopping onto a nearby wall. “Nice try, Mr. Sneaky Pants!”

The fox slinked out of the bushes, wearing the most innocent smile he could manage. “Oh, no, no, no, you misunderstand, my feathery friend! I wasn’t hiding. I was…admiring! Yes, admiring your magnificent…uh…sparkly feathers! Such shine! Such pizzazz! Truly, you’re the superstar of birds.”

The rooster squinted. “Hmm. Go on.”

The fox nodded eagerly. “And your voice! Oh, everyone says your crow is the stuff of legends. They say it’s so strong, it can make the sun jealous.”

“True, true,” said the rooster, fluffing his chest. “But you knew that already.”

The fox sighed dramatically, as if heartbroken. “Well, actually, some folks don’t believe it’s that good. They say…” He paused for effect. “They say you can’t crow properly with your eyes shut. They think it’ll sound like…” He lowered his voice to a squeaky chirp. “Peep peep!”

The rooster gasped, feathers ruffled. “Peep?! How dare they! My crow is flawless! I’ll prove it to you right now!”

Before the fox could say, “Oh, please don’t,” the rooster stood tall, stretched his neck, and—of course—closed his eyes. Just as he sucked in a big breath to crow, the fox leapt up and grabbed him!

The rooster flapped and squawked, but the fox held on tight and took off toward the forest. “I got you now, you flashy feather-duster!” the fox gloated, weaving through the trees.

Back at the farm, the hens erupted in a panic. “He’s gone! He’s been rooster-napped!” The farmer’s wife, armed with her trusty rolling pin, charged outside. The pigs squealed, the cows mooed, and even the horses joined in, yelling, “Get that fox!” The whole farm turned into a noisy, chaotic search party.

Meanwhile, the rooster, still clamped in the fox’s jaws, had an idea. “You know,” he said, trying to sound calm, “they’re catching up to you. If you tell them I wanted to come with you, they might leave you alone. You could, I don’t know, shout it to them?”

The fox’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant! I’ll do it!”

He opened his mouth to shout—but the moment he did, the rooster slipped free and flew up into a tree.

The fox blinked, looked at the rooster, then at the angry mob now just a few feet away. “Well, this is awkward.”

The rooster fluffed his feathers and called down, “Next time, Mr. Sneaky Pants, remember: Keep your mouth shut!”

The fox sighed. “Noted,” he muttered, dashing back into the forest with the mob hot on his tail.

From his perch, the rooster chuckled to himself. “And next time, I’ll remember: Keep my eyes open!”

The hens cheered from the yard, the farmer’s wife waved her rolling pin victoriously, and the rooster? Well, he decided to save his morning crowing for another day.

On a farm, a rooster ruled the yard,
With shiny feathers, a golden shard.
His comb stood tall, his strut was grand,
The proudest bird in all the land.

Each morning, perched for all to see,
He’d crow with pride and melody.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” his voice would soar,
Waking folks near and far once more.

But in the woods, a fox lay sly,
With hunger twinkling in his eye.
“I’ll catch that rooster,” the fox declared,
For tasty meals cannot be spared.

One sunny day, the rooster strolled,
Searching for worms, both fat and bold.
The fox crouched low, his plan in place,
A wicked grin upon his face.

The rooster stopped, his keen eyes saw
A twitching nose, a sneaky paw.
With one quick jump, he flew up high,
To the safety of a wall nearby.

“Oh, don’t be scared,” the fox began,
“I’m here to cheer your voice, dear man!
They say you’re great, the best in song,
But prove them wrong—it won’t take long.”

“What do they say?” the rooster cried,
His chest puffed up, his feathers wide.
“They say your voice turns soft and weak,
When you crow with eyes shut—what a tweak!”

“Nonsense!” crowed the rooster proud,
“I’ll prove it now, and sing aloud!”
He shut his eyes, his neck stretched tall,
And stood majestic above them all.

But before his crow could pierce the air,
The fox leapt up and grabbed him there!
With the rooster caught, he dashed away,
Dreaming of his dinner that day.

The hens cried loud, the farm was mad,
The farmer’s wife grabbed what she had.
With rolling pin and voices strong,
They chased the fox as he ran along.

The rooster thought, “I must act quick,
Or I’ll be this sly fox’s trick!”
He said, “If you shout, they’ll think I’m fine,
And that I came with you by design.”

The fox, now smug, began to shout,
But opening his mouth let the rooster out!
With a flap and twist, the rooster was free,
And soared to perch on the nearest tree.

The fox looked up, then turned to flee,
The crowd behind in victory.
The rooster chuckled, safe and wise,
“I’ll keep my wits and open my eyes!”