Cock-a-Doodle-Splash
As the sun rose over the farm, the darkness disappeared and the beautiful flowers and green grass came to life.
The old man was fast asleep in his warm, cosy bed. When all of a sudden he heard:
‘Cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do.’
His eyes sprung open and he sat upright in bed.
’What the?’ He was confused, scratching his head.
‘Was that a rooster?’ He wondered.
He shook his head, listening for more noise, but everything was quiet.
‘Nah, musta been dreamin’.’
He lay back down, closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
‘Cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do.’
The old man’s eyes sprung wide open again. He knew he wasn’t dreaming.
He jumped out of bed and ran to the living room door. Opening the curtain, he saw Blackie on the chicken stand, in the chicken run, singing her, ummmm his, heart out.
‘Blimey.’ He said.
The old man had recently brought 6 new chickens and the kids from the neighbourhood loved them. They’d come over every day after school to pat them. The old man pretended not to like the kids or the chickens, but in his heart of hearts, he loved having them come over and he loved the fluffy bums that ran around his farm.
‘Well I’ll be, I didn’t expect that.’ He said, as he scratched his head again and opened the sliding door.
Blackie looked up, realising the old man was watching him. Blackie looked the old man straight in the eye, pushed out his chest and proudly sung out one more time:
‘Cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do.’
Then Blackie hopped off the stand to watch all the girls come out of the chicken coup. He was proud of himself, and thought, ’They know who’s was boss now.’
When all of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Molly running at him. Fierce as ever, Molly had her wings out and tackled Blackie to the ground, as she squawked at him:
‘Don’t you ever do that again, I was sound asleep, having a beautiful dream when all of a sudden I’m woken up to you screeching at the top of your lungs! You do that again, I’m going to claw your feathers off!’
Molly pushed Blackie’s chest, knocking him into the ground, just make sure Blackie knew how serious she was. Molly climbed off him, just as the old man arrived.
The old man had seen the girls, well now girls and boy, and hopefully it was just one boy, fighting and had rushed down to stop it. He didn’t need to take the chickens to the vet if they got injured, that would ruin his day for sure!
The old man called out, ‘Hey, stop it’, as he unlatched the door. The chickens and rooster all looked up at him, suddenly forgetting what had happened and wandered out through the gate to forage in the gardens.
All was quiet again, well, for a moment, until Indie whizzed past the old man’s legs, into the chicken run to try and get Beth.
The old man grabbed onto the door, to make sure he didn’t fall over, but he banged his head on it as the door swung open.
‘Ouch’ he yelled.
Indie paid no attention to the old man, her eyes were only for Beth, but she couldn’t see her.
Indie was always determined to try and get Beth, but she never remembered that to this very day, she’d never achieved it. Indie believed that one day, she’d get Beth, but she never thought about what she’d do with her once she was between her jaws, that never came into Indie’s mind.
With a sore head and still in his pyjamas, the old man headed back to the house but he stopped on his way to pick some strawberries from his garden.
His strawberries lived in a veggie pod, which had a roof on it. As he lifted off the roof, he saw hundreds of beautiful red strawberries, all ready to eat and more growing. He just needed a few for his breakfast so he picked a handful and decided he’d come back later to get the rest.
Judy had seen the old man open the strawberries and she was ready for her next meal too.
Judy flapped her wings and flew into the strawberry patch. She grabbed the first strawberry she saw and gobbled it down. Then she grabbed the second strawberry in her beak, and just as she was about to delight in its deliciousness, she felt a hand shoving her away.
‘Get out.’ The old man yelled at Judy, as he pushed her out of the strawberry patch.
Then, all of a sudden a gust of wind came up and blew the lid of the veggie pod shut, landing on the old man’s hand.
‘Ouch.’ He screamed.
He immediately dropped the strawberries, that were in his hands, on the ground.
‘The strawberries.’ The old man looked down at the ground and they were everywhere.
Before he could reach down to grab them, Judy, Mavis, Robyn and Jan all swooped in to grab them, and in the old man’s haste to shoo them away, he stepped on some of the strawberries, ruining them.
Frustrated with his morning, and seeing that there were really no good strawberries left, unless he picked some more, he walked away.
Cranky, sore, hungry and tired, the old man headed back to his house, only to find the other chickens were in his alfresco area digging up plants, scratching away at the sugar cane mulch and poo-ing on his patio. They’d even dug out the soil to create little nests for themselves and they were wiggling their bums into the ground and making themselves at home.
In his hast to make sure the chickens didn’t kill each other earlier, he’d forgotten to close the gate behind him.
‘Agggghhhhh!’ He yelled.
The old man stormed through the gate, getting behind the chickens and saying, ‘Shoo, shoo, shoo.’ Waving his hands around so they’d go back on their side of the gate.
The little ones were still afraid of him and quickly ran down to the gate, but the older ones would run around behind him, treating it like a game.
They’d hide under the table or run behind pillars, so he had to physically bend down to pick them up but they were too quick for him and would run off in the other direction.
‘Darn chickens,’ the old man would scoff.
The chickens were laughing. They had the best time but eventually the old man had them all bundled up and on the other side of the gate.
With the gate closed, the old man went to head back into the house again, when he then saw the extent of the mess the chickens had made.
‘Blimey.’ He said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. ‘As if I didn’t have enough to do today!’
The old man spent the morning putting the plants, that the chickens had dug out, back into their holes, re-mulching and washing down his deck to get rid of all the poo.
He hadn’t seen the ducks yet, but he’d kept a keen eye out, ready to spray them with water if they came his way.
Indie, realising that she wasn’t going to get Beth today, wandered out of the chicken coup back up to the house.
She didn’t like to use the dog door, so she sat patiently at the back door waiting for the old man to let her in, however he was busy with the mess the chickens had made so she lay down, watching him work.
When she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.
She turned her head quickly, and could see a little green foot underneath the air conditioning unit.
She sprinted over to the unit, and the little foot moved underneath. Indie stuck her nose to the floor of the unit, sniffing and huffing at whatever was under there. She had to get it.
Then Indie put her front paw under and she could just feel it.
As if out of no where, Mary, the green tree frog, hopped off towards the grass, but Indie hadn’t realised and she was still sniffing around under the air conditioning unit, until the scent disappeared.
‘That’s weird,’ Indie thought, ‘where did it go?’
Indie turned around and saw Mary leap into the grass, close to where the old man was working, still cleaning up the chicken’s mess, and sprinted off towards her.
Indie leapt off the deck, turning mid-air to face Mary but in her haste, she hit the old man, causing him to fall over onto the grass and his face landed in a pile of chicken poo!
‘Aggghhhhh!’ The old man screamed. Hitting the ground with a massive thud. ‘What was that?’ He said.
The old man could hear Indie barking. What’s going on? He thought.
The old man took his time to sit up, then scrapped the poo off his face, ‘Yuuucckkkk!’ He said. He wiped his hand through the grass to get rid of as much poo as he could, but he’d have to wash his face and hand under the tap.
He could hear Indie barking behind him. Looking around, he saw Indie dancing around and barking. Her noes and front paws were down towards the ground, with her bum straight up in the air, then she’d jump to another spot, again head down, bum up. Jump, bark, jump, bark, jump, bark, Indie carried on.
‘What in tarnations are you doing, old girl?’ The old man said to Indie.
The old man got to his feet and walked over to Indie. He realised she’d cornered a green tree frog, a friend, not an enemy, and she was attempting to put it in her mouth.
‘No you don’t!’ The old man said to Indie. He reached down, pushing Indie aside with his elbow and attempted to pick up the frog, but she jumped away.
Mary wasn’t going to be dinner for either the dog or the old man. She was out of there.
Boing, boing, boing, she quickly hopped away onto the grass and she bounced into the pool area, ‘I’ll be safe in here,’ she thought.
And yes, she would be safe in there, but it didn’t stop Indie running right into the pool fence and banging her noggin.
‘Ouch’ she yelped. Indie shook her head, she was dazed for a moment and she couldn’t remember why she’d run into the fence in the first place.
She looked up at the old man, who was right behind her, and then she remembered – the frog, where was it? She looked and looked and looked, sticking her nose between the pool fence pailings and sniffing about, but she couldn’t see the frog, ‘bugger,’ she thought. She kept looking though, it had to be there somewhere.
The old man laughed, ‘you’ll never learn girl.’ He knew the frog was gone and that Indie wouldn’t get it now, thank goodness, he thought.
He headed over to the back tap to wash the poo off his face and hand, and then turned back, continuing to tidy up his yard.
After his big morning the man went inside. Still in his pyjamas, he sat down in his favourite chair for a moment and was soon fast asleep, snoring away.
‘Quick, he’s out to it!’ Al said.
‘Ha ha.’ John laughed, ‘let’s have some fun!’
Al & John had been watching the old man from the back fence, waiting for their opportunity to cause some mischief.
In his haste, the day before, the old man had forgotten to put the pool cover on and the ducks LOVED to swim.
Al let out a, ‘Quack, quack, quack,’ to let the other ducks know that it was ‘game on.’ It was time to rip things up at the old man’s place.
Three quacks meant ‘Old man time’ and 100 quacks (or lots of quacks) meant ‘get out of here – NOW.’ The ducks knew the signals and always followed them.
The other ducks were nesting on their pond not far away. They’d had a quiet morning and were ready for some fun, so as soon as they heard Al’s three quacks, they were off.
Matty, Brad & Melissa flew up in the air first, with Bronnie, Phoebe and Silas close behind. As they lifted off, dust flew everywhere but they didn’t care, they were going to play!
The ducks flew over the nice old ladies cottage, and circled over the kids house, before they saw Al and John already in the pool, flapping their wings and flicking water into the air.
The ducks all came into land, some on top of the water and others diving down as if they were hunting for fish.
As Phoebe came up to the top of the water, she stretched her wings out wide, flapping them, and water went everywhere. ‘Oh my, that feels soooooo good.’ Phoebe said.
‘Yeah it does.’ Bronnie agreed.
The ducks had a lovely time, duck diving, flapping their wings, and swimming around. It was like a big bath for them, and the water was so soft on their feathers.
Silas, the baby of the ducks, was standing on the pool step, kicking his feet in the water like a marching band. ‘Left, right, left, right, left, right.’ He said as he marched along the step.
‘Look at Silas.’ Melissa said. Everyone looked at Silas and smiled. He was a shy, little duck and often he’d stay right beside his mum Bronnie, but not today, today he felt confident and was happy to play around in the big ‘bath’.
‘Oh he’s so cute.’ Phoebe said to Bronnie.
Bronnie smiled, ‘I know.’ She could watch her baby duckling all day long.
Other ducks arrived, and they swam around in the pool too. When the ducks got hungry, they flew into the old man’s yard and grazed on what they could find, which included, waddling into the chicken run and eating the chicken’s feed.
The chickens didn’t care, they enjoyed having the ducks around, it was like one big happy family.
The old man snored himself awake. He didn’t even realised he’d fallen to sleep and he was still in his pyjamas.
It was late afternoon, and he’d done nothing all day. ‘What a waste of a day.’ He thought.
He was feeling a bit hungry, so he rose from his chair and walked into the kitchen. Then, looking out his kitchen window he saw them – the ducks, they were everywhere. There were at least 20 ducks in the pool, on the fence, in the chicken run – literally EVERYWHERE.
‘Agghhhhh!!’ The old man’s yelled and threw his hands went in the air!!
He ran straight to the back door, Indie running out beside him, barking her head off.
‘Get out of here you crazy ducks.’ He yelled.
All the ducks looked up suddenly, they were in shock, they’d been having the best time and were so chill. Then, they heard Al ‘quack, quack, quack, quack, quack…’ or in human terms ‘evacuate, evacuate, evacuate, evacuate, evacuate!!!’ They took flight immediately. It looked like the mass exodus it was, wings flapping everywhere as they headed back to the pond.
Except for Mark, Brad and Matty. They’d been eating down in the chicken run. When they heard Al’s quack and headed to the door, Indie came to a screeching holt, blocking them from getting out.
Indie was ready to attack, salivating at the thought of catching the ducks – she wanted all 3 of them!
Indie walked slowly across the threshold of the door, one step at a time, snarling at the ducks.
‘I’m going to get you.’ Indie growled at the ducks.
Mark, Brad and Matty looked at each other. Matty started anxiously lifting one foot at a time, ‘What do we do? What do we do?’ He squawked at the others.
Brad rolled his eyes, ‘Really Matty? Do we have to save you again?’ The boys were always getting into trouble together, they loved hanging out but sometimes they’d get into precarious situations that required them to be quick on their duck feet.
‘Come on.’ Mark said, ‘let’s outsmart this dog, she’s not that bright! Let’s split up, you guys go that way, and I’ll go this way, she can’t follow all of us.’
Indie took off, sprinting, 100 miles per hour (at least) towards the ducks.
Brad pushed Matty to the left and Mark went right.
Indie had to make a decision, ‘Two are better than one.’ She thought, chasing after Brad and Matty.
Brad and Matty flew up, flapping their wings, ‘quack, quack.’ They squawked.
Indie jumped up, mouth open and salivating as she tried to bite the ducks leg, but she missed and was wacked in the face with a wing full of feathers, blinding her, filling her mouth full of feathers and knocking her to the floor.
Brad spun out from the hit with Indie and crashed into the side of the chicken run. He was a bit dazed and not sure what had happened.
He shook is head, looked up and realised they didn’t have long before Indie figured out what was going on too.
‘Quick,’ Mark yelled, waving to Brad and Matty to get out of the chicken run.
Matty grabbed Brad’s wing, helping him stand up and they quickly ran towards the door.
Meanwhile, Indie was coughing out the feathers in her mouth. She really got a mouth full.
‘Cough.’
‘Cough.’
‘Cough.’
She got the last of the feathers out of her mouth when she realised, she hadn’t caught the ducks, where had they gone? She looked around to see them waddling out of the chicken run, ‘nooooooo,’ she barked, she had to get them.
She stood up and ran towards them, giving it all she had, she couldn’t miss out on a duck when she had three in front of her.
Indie was getting closer and closer to the ducks, she opened her mouth ready to bite.
The ducks, now just out of the chicken run, flapped their wings and lifted off into the air.
Indie lept up, mouth wide open, feeling the air underneath her as her mouth filled with feathers. Indie closed her jaws in excitement as her paws hit the ground and she started coughing straight away.
‘Cough.’
‘Cough.’
‘Cough.’
Indie spurted out the last of the feathers when she realised, she was all feathers and no duck. They’d won again. Indie was sad, as she wandered off into the yard, sulking.
‘Phew, that was close.’ Mark said, as the ducks flew off.
‘Yeah it was!’ Matty said, peddling his anxious feet, hoping they’d help him fly faster.
‘How’s your butt Matty?’ Brad asked, laughing.
‘Sore, I feel naked!’ Matty sulked. Indie had taken a chunk of his tail feathers, ‘but we’re alive, so I’m happy.’ Matty said in a happier voice. Matty was genuinely happy they were alive, but not happy he was missing feathers and his bum was very sore!
They landed in the pond, safe and sound, with all the other ducks.
Beth had watched the whole thing play out with Indie and the ducks from the safety of her home. She laughed, ‘when will that dog ever learn?’
Whilst the antics with the ducks and Indie were going on, the old man was shocked to see the mess the ducks had made. There was poo everywhere, all over his pool deck and all through the pool. They’d made an absolute mess!
He spent the next few hours cleaning the pool and his deck, cursing the ducks as he went. He wasn’t going to forget the pool cover again.
After he’d finished cleaning up, again, he put the chickens, and rooster, to sleep and as his head hit the pillow that night he thought, ‘that rooster better not wake up early tomorrow or he’s going to be dinner!’
