Here are a couple of questions for anyone who tends chickens:
Did you know that your chickens might be in desperate need of library cards? Or that trying to get the attention of a “buk” publisher is a mighty tough task for a literate hen?
All this time you’ve been tending to the ladies — building comfy coops, procuring tasty worms, providing plenty of room for “free ranging,” the girls have been clucking like mad to scratch out their thoughts on something more permanent than dirt. The life of a chicken, it turns out, has more breading — oops, I mean breadth — and depth than we ever eggs-pected.
I know this to be true because I just read “The Buk Buk Buk Festival,” in which Henrietta Fowler, a fine-feathered authoress, shares her eggs-citing story.
Henrietta’s literary journey begins, most appropriately, at the public library. Finding an open-minded librarian who supports poultry’s right to read, bookworm Henrietta checks out books to her little gizzard’s desire. She likes to write, too, but when she tries to get a story published, the sting of rejection raises her hackles. Then one day, while she’s pecking around at the library, she spies a poster promoting a children’s book festival. No dumb bunny, this sharp-eyed hen observes that all of the authors on the poster are people — no chickens!