Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: ZENITH (04/21/16)
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TITLE: The Humbling of Rutherford | Previous Challenge Entry
By Hannah Gaudette
04/27/16 -
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Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo!
Rutherford let go his mighty bellow at that early, dusty blue hour from atop the apex of his weathervane. Beneath him, a slight stir, a rustling of the goats and their hay, drifted upward in gentle volume.
“Ah!” He fluffed his voluptuous feathers and set to work insuring they shone brightly for the fine spring day ahead. After all, he couldn't have the farm's leading citizen looking like he'd just awoken. “They always listen and wait for my call. I am the trumpet of the morning, the pinnacle of the farm, the culmination of all beauty!”
As Rutherford proudly continued his titles from the crest of the barn roof, Felix the Sheepdog laid his paws over his ears. How many times must he be burdened with the incessant arrogance of the rooster? That birdbrain wandered through his pasture all day, trailing after the flock, his pride wafting through the air like the smell of skunk.
“One of these days, Rutherford isn't going to make it across the field.” Felix sat upright and glanced at his sister. “If he chases my tail one more time, my heart's craving to get a taste of him will be satisfied.”
Patience gave a slow shake of her head. “Really, brother, I think you're overreacting. All the animals on this farm have their place.”
Felix emitted a quiet snarl, and looked back up to the bird who now released another long, illustrious greeting to the brightening eastern horizon. “That may be true, but he doesn't know his.”
Well, Rutherford heard none of this conversation, as he was busy removing himself from the barn roof and returning to the flock to indulge in breakfast.
“What would this dear little farmyard do without me?” Rutherford wondered aloud between mouthfuls of grain. “I am the true summit of this place. Why, just look at where I sit each morning! Right on the acme of the barn. I declare, here and now, no other rooster shall ever take my place at the head of this delightful flock!”
Though he continued his routine lecture, the hens tuned him out. They were far too busy fussing over feathers, food, and egg-laying to care much about what Rutherford had to say, especially when they had his speech, delivered in indefatigable excellence, memorized.
That afternoon, Rutherford strode across the pasture several feet in front of the idly lounging dogs. He was far too engrossed in appearance to pay them much mind. There was a fine bundle of ants just near that post over there, if he wasn't mistaken, and naturally, he never was . . .
Growl! Teeth! Bark! Felix. The scoundrel! Rutherford was swept up by an army of dog teeth. His protests were ignored by the filthy canine that held him. Why on earth had he ever trusted that flee-ridden beast in the first place? Dogs were all alike, each and every one of them.
“Let me go, you oversized rat!” Rutherford hissed. “I'll have you know, the moment I'm free, I'm going up to my throne to inform the entire farm of your inexcusable . . .” His breath was swiftly snatched away as he caught sight of Felix's sister joining the mix. Oh, dear. How was he to escape this? He should have insisted on background checks for these canines long ago.
“Felix!” Patience's voice registered as a clear scold. “You let that bird go this instant! He's learned his lesson, I'm sure.”
Rutherford was free. He hit the ground and scrambled to his feet in a terribly unceremonious manner. His sights set on the barn roof, but his trembling legs and wings would carry him no farther than the hilltop. He inhaled deeply, ready to explode this new development to all the world, but his voice came out as little more than a frail cluck.
Oh, dear, I'm undone. My wings shall never take me high enough to be the summit of the farm. I'm ruined! Annihilated! Oh, misery me.
As the first whiff of daybreak crawled across the land the next morning, Rutherford reclaimed his throne and heralded the dawn. But just where had his grand, majestic voice betrayed him to? The hens whispered amongst themselves about the change. Perhaps a sore throat, perhaps a bit of humility, perhaps a bit of insomnia. Still, it was strange.
Felix smirked, Patience elbowed him, and nobody spoke a word.
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Blessings~
You portrayed the birds false puffed up bravado perfectly!