Three Good Friends

Myrtle, Minerva, and Maude were three good friends. Each week, they met at one of their houses to share tea, a bite of something sweet, and the latest news. Myrtle was a beautiful hen with red feathers; Minerva was equally lovely in feathers of brown and Maude’s feathers were a gorgeous, snowy white. To be honest, each hen was more than a little vain about her lovely feathers.

Myrtle loved her home but at times she felt lonely and her house seemed too big, so she looked forward to Tuesdays  when her friends came for tea. She greeted Minerva at the door, with a warm hug. “Come in, come in,” she clucked. “The table is set and ready. Maude should be here soon.”

The two friends ate corn cookies, drank peppermint tea, and chatted, but Maude did not come. Myrtle poured more tea, re-filled the empty corn cookie plate, and still, no Maude.

Minerva shook her head. “The sun is going down and night will soon come. Where can Maude be?”

Myrtle sighed. “And she is afraid of the dark.”

Minerva shivered. “So am I. Danger lurks in the shadows.”

Myrtle’s teacup clattered as she put it on her saucer. “There’s only one thing to do. We must find her.”

Minerva looked at Myrtle. Myrtle looked at Minerva. “In the dark?” Minerva quavered.

Myrtle nodded. “What must be, must be.”

They pushed their chairs back and started toward the door. Myrtle grabbed her umbrella. “Just in case it rains,” she said.

“Hurry!” Minerva said. “Maybe we can find her before the sun sets.”

The two friends waddled as quickly as fluffy, plump hens could waddle, into the forest. Minerva kept glancing up at the trees. Once, she clutched Myrtle’s arm and whispered, “Did you hear that? I think it was an owl.”

Myrtle froze, her heart thumping. Squinting up at a tree, she saw something white.

Minerva saw it too. She gasped. “Is that Maude?”

The two friends started toward that white blob on a low tree branch. Suddenly, Minerva clutched Myrtle’s wing and squawked, “Look what’s under the tree.”

Myrtle looked. “It’s red,” she whispered, “and black and white and…oh, great corn cakes, it’s fox!”

Tears slid down Minerva’s beak. “What’ll we do?”

“We must save our friend,” Myrtle said. “We must think of a plan.”

While they thought, Fox kept jumping toward Maude, and Maude kept wavering on her limb. 

At last, Minerva said, “I’m scared. What if our plan doesn’t work?”

Myrtle didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped out from behind the bush and ran straight toward Fox. “Whoo hoo,” she cackled. “Can’t catch me.”

The startled fox stared at this crazy hen. “A chicken on the ground is better than a chicken in a tree,” he snarled, and sprang toward Myrtle.

“Jump, Maude!” Minerva screeched to her friend in the tree. She darted between Fox and Myrtle. This confused Fox, who didn’t know which nice, plump chicken dinner to chase.

Just as Fox gained on Minerva, Myrtle dashed under his nose again. 

The two friends kept circling in front of Fox, first one, then the other. The farther they ran, the closer they came to Myrtle’s house. Meanwhile, Maude scrambled from the tree and started after them.

Myrtle was so tired, she didn’t think she could run a step more. She turned toward Fox just as he sprang. With a snap, she opened her umbrella right in Fox’s face.

Fox ran into the umbrella and his head shot through and his legs tangled up with the handle. He rolled and tumbled, trying to get the cumbersome thing off.

Myrtle, Minerva, and Maude dashed into Myrtle’s house and slammed the door. Myrtle locked it tight, pulled all the curtains across the windows and collapsed onto the floor beside Minerva and Maude.

“We’re safe,” she whispered.

“We made it,” gasped Minerva.

“Thank you, brave friends,” clucked Maude.

Myrtle had lost a few tail feathers and Maude and Minerva had leaves all over, but no one minded.

Much later, the three sat at Myrtle’s table, teacups and more cookies in front of them. “I wonder if Fox ever got out of your umbrella,” Minerva said.

“Maybe he’ll wear it forever,” Maude said.

The three friends giggled a little as they pictured Fox in the umbrella.

“It’s truly dark now,” Myrtle said. “You cannot go back to your houses. I have two extra bedrooms and I hope you’ll stay the night.”

So, they did. They all liked being together and feeling safe. The next morning, Myrtle said, “My house has always been too big for just one hen, and I get lonely. How about you two staying here with me and we three can look out for each other and have tea and cookies every day.”

And, that’s what happened. Those three fluffy, beautiful hens are still living in Myrtle’s snug cottage in the woods and they have never heard from Fox again.