Attack of the Chicken
27/5/13 20:31![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shanachie_quillFor NaNoLJers' Sunday prompt (this probably would have been finished yesterday, but somehow half the fuses/electric in the house blew--including the modem so I had no internet last night--moved it up to my room and it's fixed today.)
“He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.”
Tuggie, the dachshund, trotted across the barn yard, his tail held high as he surveyed his territory. He’d already run all the way out to the cow pasture, the farthest his little legs could carry him to visit the animals that could crush him easily. He didn’t go into the field, but ran alongside the fence; barking at the large animals.
He wandered over by the goat pen, watching the sheep dog round up the goats and kids so they could go up to the far pasture. In the past, he’d helped with this, but he was getting on in years and he couldn’t stay out from under the quickly moving feet. Now he set his front feet against the fence and watched with a critical eye, proud of the way the younger dog did his job. He hadn’t been the one training the larger dog, but he had helped show the other dog what to do.
Dropping back down, Tuggie headed towards the chicken coop, the last stop on his rounds before he headed back to the farm house. He squirmed under the gap in the fence that had been there as long as he’d been on the farm and into the coop.
The first couple of hens ignored his foray into their domain as they went about their business, scratching at the dirt and pecking for corn. As Tuggie made his way across the dirt, one of the chickens raised its head and started towards him. Tuggie stopped, eying the chicken as it matched his pace.
For a few minutes, they followed the same pace. When Tuggie moved, the chicken moved. When he stopped, the chicken stopped. When he started prancing towards the edge of the coop again, the chicken started moving. He raised one paw, flailing it at the chicken who rushed him, cawing in response.
Tuggie backpedaled as quickly as he could, suddenly worried as the rampaging chicken came at him. Before he could reach the fence, the chicken rose up slightly into the air; squawking at him. Tuggie barked back, but the chicken continued to flap at him.
Finally he had to give ground and squirmed under the fence. The chicken pursued him right to the fence, but once on the safety of the other side, Tuggie turned and barked in response. The chicken reached its head through the fence and pecked him on the back, causing the brave dachshund to yelp.
He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.
“He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.”
Tuggie, the dachshund, trotted across the barn yard, his tail held high as he surveyed his territory. He’d already run all the way out to the cow pasture, the farthest his little legs could carry him to visit the animals that could crush him easily. He didn’t go into the field, but ran alongside the fence; barking at the large animals.
He wandered over by the goat pen, watching the sheep dog round up the goats and kids so they could go up to the far pasture. In the past, he’d helped with this, but he was getting on in years and he couldn’t stay out from under the quickly moving feet. Now he set his front feet against the fence and watched with a critical eye, proud of the way the younger dog did his job. He hadn’t been the one training the larger dog, but he had helped show the other dog what to do.
Dropping back down, Tuggie headed towards the chicken coop, the last stop on his rounds before he headed back to the farm house. He squirmed under the gap in the fence that had been there as long as he’d been on the farm and into the coop.
The first couple of hens ignored his foray into their domain as they went about their business, scratching at the dirt and pecking for corn. As Tuggie made his way across the dirt, one of the chickens raised its head and started towards him. Tuggie stopped, eying the chicken as it matched his pace.
For a few minutes, they followed the same pace. When Tuggie moved, the chicken moved. When he stopped, the chicken stopped. When he started prancing towards the edge of the coop again, the chicken started moving. He raised one paw, flailing it at the chicken who rushed him, cawing in response.
Tuggie backpedaled as quickly as he could, suddenly worried as the rampaging chicken came at him. Before he could reach the fence, the chicken rose up slightly into the air; squawking at him. Tuggie barked back, but the chicken continued to flap at him.
Finally he had to give ground and squirmed under the fence. The chicken pursued him right to the fence, but once on the safety of the other side, Tuggie turned and barked in response. The chicken reached its head through the fence and pecked him on the back, causing the brave dachshund to yelp.
He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.
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