For three weeks, she sat on those eggs. She plucked off her own fluff from her underbelly to keep them warm and cozy, and only left them for very brief moments to get some sips of water or a few pecks of food. Then, on the twenty-first day of egg-sitting, something started to happen. It was time. Her hard work had paid off. There, beneath her, a tiny crack had appeared in one of the eggs. Soon, the crack grew larger, and more cracks started to appear. Many hours later, through the cracks in the egg shell, a tiny beak poked through. This was followed by a wet, little head, one wing and then the other, helping to squeeze that little body out of the shell.
And then, there it was. A tiny, shy, baby chick, its fluff still wet and matted from the confines of its shell. As mama hen warmed that tiny chick, other chicks were hard at work, breaking out of their own shells. By the time it was over, that hen was a proud new mama of five baby chicks.
As you can imagine, being a mama of five is a full time job. It is no easy task keeping five little ones warm and fed and protected, while also teaching them the ways of the world. But this mama was good at her job. By the second day, she had all five chicks out in the yard, exploring. When she found a few bugs or an anthill, she made sure to call her little ones in close, always making sure they ate before she did.
As they grew, the little chicks gained confidence to explore further and further, but when darkness fell, all five of them could be found tucked up all around and under their protective mama. When the chicks lost all of their baby fluff and had grown their adult feathers, the needed their mama less and less. Even though she was content to let them go, the growing chicks continued to stay together as a group. They ate together, they explored together, and they roosted together at night.
Time passed on the farm, and summer turned to fall. The nights got cooler and the days got shorter. One day, the little girl on the farm noticed that one of the now nearly grown chicks was injured. This black chicken was named Bell, and she needed help. If she was left to fend for herself, Bell would certainly fall victim to a fox or a coyote or a hawk-all of which frequented the farm. So, the little girls brought Bell inside to the library. The chicken's leg was badly broken and she couldn't even stand up. Her parents tried to tell her that this was just a part of farm life and that Bell probably wouldn't live, but the little girl had other plans. She found an old bin and filled it with straw, and put little bowls of food and water in the bin, too. Soon the little girl realized that this was not the best plan. Every time Bell tried to stand on her injured leg, she would lose her balance and start to flap her wings. All that wing-flapping would inevitably cause Bell to spill her food and water, leaving the bin and herself a big, sloppy mess. The little girl didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to continuously change all of Bell's bedding! So, the little girl moved into the library. She fed Bell from her hand, and made sure she always had enough to drink. At night, she would dim the lights and curl up in the corner chair, never more than a few feet from her sweet Bell, and sleep.
The nights were sometimes long, when the little girl would stay awake very late, worrying about how she could save Bell. One morning, the little girl's mother came into the library very early, and found Bell lying lifeless, with her head wedged under her food bowl. She thought this was the end for Bell, but when the mother reached in to pick her up, Bell lifted her head and cocked it to one side! Apparently, Bell had just wanted a little extra shut-eye that morning!
The weeks went by, and the little girl continued to care for her chicken and sleep by her side. Then, in November, something amazing happened. The little girl awoke one morning to find Bell standing up in her bin-STANDING!
She knew her chicken had been healing and getting stronger, because the little girl had been working with her every day. Bell used to fall over when the little girl tried to stand her up, unable to put any weight on her injured leg. But she had slowly seen improvements in the chicken, and Bell had learned how to stay upright using both legs. But today was different-today she had done it all on her own!
Bell was still not able to rejoin her flock, though. She was still very weak and had lost a lot of weight. The little girl continued to take such good care of Bell. She'd wrap her in a towel and snuggle with her for hours.
In early December, something changed. Bell was barely eating and drinking. Within a couple of days, she couldn't stand up anymore. What was happening? Bell had been on the road to recovery and now she had taken a turn for the worse. The little girl was was worried more than ever.
On a Saturday in early December, Bell lost her battle. She did not wake up that morning, and had spent her last night in the library.
The little girl was distraught. She had poured her heart and soul into helping her sweet Bell, and she still wasn't able to save her. This wasn't fair! The little girl was angry and sad, and most of all, lonely. Later that day, her father helped her bury Bell in the backyard, in the shade of a tree, and painted a rock to place over her grave.
That night, and for a long time thereafter, the little girl slept in the library, curled up with her favorite chicken's towel. Her brother tried to cheer her up with pictures he drew, but she was just so sad.
After some time, when the anger had worn off, and her eyes weren't so full of tears, the little girl was left with just loneliness. She started to think that maybe she'd like to start again with a new chick. So, her mother found a breeder who happened to be expecting to hatch new chicks the very next day and they made the trip across the state to see them. When the lady came into the room holding the box of freshly hatched chicks, and a tiny, fuzzy, black head peeked out, the little girl squealed with delight. The little girl and her mother decided to take the new chick home, along with two other fluffball chicks. On the drive home, as the little girl held her new chick, it slowly creeped up and snuggled in right on her shoulder, beneath the little girl's hair, and fell asleep.
That night, a new friendship was formed: the little girl and her little black chick. That little girl continues to sleep in the library, but now the room has a soft, red glow of a heat lamp to keep the tiny chicks warm throughout the winter.
And in the spring, when the snow has melted, the ground has begun to thaw, the apple tree has new blossoms, and the three little chicks are fully feathered, they will join the backyard flock. The little black chic with have grand adventures in tall grasses and wheat fields, but she will always come home to the little girl with the big heart.
