The rooster’s eyes burned crimson red with rage. It sat quietly in the cage. Docile and motionless, it was saving its energy for his great escape. The rooster had been dropped off to our farm. My little sister and I received the feathery package. I was eight. She was six. We were curious. I lived on a farm in Wichita, Kansas. It was a beautiful farm. It was summer and the deep green gorgeous leaves would dance in the wind. The gentle breeze blew through the farmhouse land and created a soothing low level vibrant sound. The crickets and grasshoppers chirped away in the distance. We could smell the scent of corn husks in the air. A pinch of manure too. Beautiful sunny days like today gave our summer days great quality. Our winters, not so much. The green cut grass sprawled out around our old farmhouse. The farmhouse was beaten down and weathered from the summers and winters. Old but sturdy.

Today our father was gone. He was down the road outsourcing his tractor to a friend. That left us alone with the feathery package. The rooster was twice the size of any of our other ten chickens. He had every color in a crayon box on him. The tips of his feathers were silvery blue. He had a lion’s mane that shimmered in our summary Wichita sunlight. His body was a cheerful orange, and his wings were black and speckled with jade. Unlike our other chickens, this roosters’ eyes were red. He was the most majestic bird I’ve ever seen.

“We can name him Sir Clucks A lot. Can I pet it? It’s so cute.” My sister asked.

“I don’t know. You think it will run away? The other chickens hang out here. He seems really big” I answered.

“You think he will like Henrietta and Silver?”

“He looks mean.”

“What if they fight?” she asked with an anxious look on her face. She poked her finger through the cage and touched the chicken's back.

“We should wait for dad.”

“I brought Mr. Marmalade. He can ride the chicken. I want one of his blue feathers.” she said. Mr. Marmalade was her favorite doll. It was dirty and raggedy, but she always kept it by her side.

“We can take him out for five minutes, but we need to put him back right after.” I spoke. She screeched in happiness. I examined the bird cage. It was small and had a latch in the front. I took a deep breath and unlatched it. I opened the door and peered into the cage. All I could see was the chicken’s butt. I poked it.

“Grab it.” My sister exclaimed.

“Hang on dang it.”

I took another deep breath. I gathered all my courage. I reached into the cage and grabbed the chicken’s butte. As soon as I made contact, the chicken craned his neck around sharply. I made eye contact with him. As the bird and I made a connection, I knew this was a bad idea. The look on the rooster’s face wasn’t friendly. It was murderous.

I pulled my hand out quickly. The bird launched from its cage like a cannonball. I fell backwards on my back. As soon as I landed, the rooster was on top of me. It was attacking me and pecking with all of his might. I kicked the bird off. By now, the scuffle had created a huge dust cloud from dirt on the driveway. I got up and backed away. My sister started to scream. The rooster emerged out of the dirt cloud. Wings flapping and its feet out in attack position, it was headed for my sister. She screamed in terror and held out her doll. It blocked the chicken’s attack. I stood in shock and didn’t know what to do. I felt something push me down to the ground. When I looked up, it was my dog Boomer that had shoved me down and was coming to save the day. The rooster screamed and cried as the dog attempted to bite him. He took off in the air and away from the dog. The bird was now in complete flight mode and was between the dog and I. The bird narrowed its eyes at me and targeted me. It sailed down to attack me. But as the rooster was about murder me, he was hit with something. I opened my eyes and saw it was Mr. Marmalade.