The Turkey, Peacock, and Goose

Once upon a time, on a lively little farm, there lived a peacock with feathers so dazzling, you’d think he’d fallen into a box of crayons and glitter. His tail shimmered with every color of the rainbow, and when the sun hit it just right, it was like a disco ball had decided to move into the barnyard.

The peacock loved his feathers and wasn’t exactly shy about it. He strutted around the farmyard, his tail fanned out like a parade float, saying, “Good morning, everyone! Feast your eyes on this fabulousness!”

But the other birds weren’t impressed. In fact, they were downright cranky about it. The turkey puffed up his chest and grumbled, “Oh, great. Here comes Mister Sparkle Feathers again. Does he think he’s the King of the Farm?”

The goose, who had a talent for being loud and dramatic, squawked, “King of the Farm? More like King of the Funny Legs! Look at those skinny things! He’s like a pair of drumsticks walking around!”

The chickens giggled and clucked. “And that voice! It’s like someone stepped on a rusty accordion!”

The peacock paused mid-strut, his fabulous tail drooping slightly. “Drumsticks? Rusty accordion? Well, that’s a bit harsh,” he muttered. But then he straightened up, gave a little shake of his feathers, and turned to face the crowd.

“You know,” he said, “you’re absolutely right. My legs are... a bit on the wobbly side. And my voice? Okay, it’s not exactly smooth jazz. But have you seen these feathers? They’re like a walking rainbow! I mean, come on, who else here is bright enough to double as a nightlight?”

The turkey snorted. “Feathers don’t make the bird! What about being useful, like laying eggs or, I don’t know, scaring off foxes?”

The peacock tilted his head. “Useful? I inspire joy. That’s pretty useful. Have you ever seen a fox stop to admire a turkey? Didn’t think so.”

The goose, not one to back down, squawked again. “Oh, please. You’re just showing off!”

“Of course, I’m showing off!” said the peacock, striking a dramatic pose. “If you had this tail, you’d be showing it off too. Don’t deny it—I saw you eyeing that puddle this morning, practicing your reflection like, ‘Ooh, look at me, I’m so honky!’”

The goose blushed, which is impressive for a bird. The other animals chuckled nervously.

The peacock sighed and softened his tone. “Look, I know I’m not perfect. But none of us are, right? It’s easy to pick on someone when they’re different. Maybe, instead of pointing out each other’s quirks, we could all try being a little kinder. I’ll compliment your honk if you compliment my tail. Deal?”

The birds looked at one another, shuffling their feet. Deep down, they knew the peacock had a point. “Alright,” said the turkey, scratching his beak awkwardly. “Your feathers are kinda impressive. Like... carnival impressive.”

“And your legs aren’t that bad,” added the goose. “More like... modern art.”

The peacock grinned. “I’ll take it! Now, who’s up for a strut-off? Winner gets first dibs on the corn!”

And with that, the birds burst into laughter, the tension lifted, and the farmyard felt a little brighter. Even the goose honked a compliment or two—though she still insisted her honk was the best in the barnyard.

Beneath the bright and golden sky,
A peacock wandered, strutting by.
His feathers shimmered, bold and grand,
The finest sight in all the land.

His tail unfurled, a jeweled fan,
Each color danced, a perfect plan.
The farmyard birds all stopped to see,
But frowned instead of cheering glee.

The turkey huffed, "He struts around,
As if his beauty knows no bound!
Yet what’s the point of colors bright,
When legs like his give such a fright?"

The goose chimed in with a loud squawk,
"His voice could scare the barnyard flock!
He thinks his feathers make him best,
But hear him honk—it fails the test!"

The peacock paused, their words were mean,
His sparkly joy felt less serene.
But standing tall, he proudly spoke,
His voice as firm as sturdy oak:

"My legs, I know, aren’t graceful things,
And my voice, it’s not what beauty sings.
But feathers bright, a rare delight,
Are gifts that shine in morning light."

"Perhaps," he said, "you do not see,
What beauty means, or what it can be.
When envy clouds the things you feel,
You only see what you can steal."

The barnyard fell in thoughtful hush,
No honking goose, no turkey's gush.
For deep inside, they knew it true,
The peacock’s words were wise and due.

Each bird looked down, then looked anew,
At feathers bright in every hue.
They saw their flaws but also gleamed,
Their worth was more than what they dreamed.

So now they cheer each wondrous sight,
And cherish what makes each one bright.
For beauty shines in different ways,
A lesson learned through farmyard days.