The Other Little Red Hen

This story is called the Other Little Red Hen, adapted from the fable the Little Red Hen and read by Ryan Aoto. This is a LibraryCall recording. Have you heard the story of the little red hen? It is a wonderful story about a chicken who teaches others about the importance of hard work. Well, this is a story of another little red hen. Her story is similar in some ways, and different in others. Let us check it out. One morning the little red hen woke up with a smile. It was harvest time. The wheat she had planted last winter would be ready now. She had her own section in the big field on the farm. She had spent many hours clearing rocks and weeds, and planting her seeds. She dropped her three little chicks off with the other hens and started out to the wheat fields. Her first task was to cut some of the wheat she had planted earlier in the season to grind into flour. “Good morning Mr. Horse,” she said as she got to the field. “Good morning,” he replied. She selected the finest looking golden stalks of wheat and put them in her basket. She took them over to the shed at the back of the farm and pulled the mortar and pestle from the shelf. The mortar was a large stone bowl. She put the wheat into it. The pestle as a heavy stone tool, with a rounded end. She used the pestle to grind the wheat until it was a nice fine flour. For her next stop, the little red hen went to the well to get a little water. “Good morning Ms. Cow,” the little red hen said. “Good morning,” Ms. Cow replied. The little red hen took the bucket and dropped it down the well. She pulled it back up and poured some water into her bottle. Her next stop was the wood pile to get some wood for her oven. “Good morning Ms. Sheep,” the little red hen said, “Good morning,” Ms. Sheep replied. The little red hen put some wood in her basket. With the hardest work done she walked back over to the chicken coop. “Hello,” the little red hen said to the other chickens. “How are my chicks doing today?” “They are little balls of energy,” one of the big hens laughed. One of the chicks was, at that moment, trying to climb onto her head. The other two seemed to be running full speed into the wall of the coop, over and over. “Making bread today?” the big hen asked as she saw the basket of flour, water, and wood. “Yes,” the little red hen replied. “I was just checking in. I’ll be back later.” The big hen gave her some eggs and the little red hen went back to her home. She used the wood to start a fire in her oven. She mixed the flour, and water with a little bit of salt and yeast from her kitchen. She mixed the dough, put it in a pan, and put it in the oven. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh bread filled the home. The little red hen looked at her beautiful, delicious creation as it sat on the counter to cool. Normally, she gave out some of her bread to the other animals of the farm. Today, though, a thought occurred to her. “Why should I share this bread?” she asked herself. “I do all the work to make it. From now on, I’m going to keep all the reward.” The little red hen went to pick her chicks up from the coop. The big hen was surprised that the little red hen did not bring her any bread, but she did not say anything about it. That night the little red hen and her three chicks feasted on fresh bread, and used the rest for sandwiches for the following week. The seasons changed and once again the little red hen woke up with a smile. It was time to harvest again. The wheat she had planted in the spring would be ready now. It was bread making day! She got her chicks ready to go and took them over to the coop, only to her shock and surprise, there was no one there! “Hello?” she called. “Cheep, cheep, cheep!” her chicks said excitedly. “Shhh,” she scolded. “Hello?”she tried again. The even louder cheeps of her chicks was the only response. “That’s odd, where is everybody?” she said. “Well, I guess you three are coming with mama today!” At that moment each chick ran off in a different direction. Eventually, the little red hen got all her chicks back and made it to the wheat field. She was already exhausted, However, she was determined. It was bread day and nothing would stop her! Then, she saw her wheat. Her wheat looked terrible. Her winter harvest was ruined. The rest of the field looked fine, but her little patch was ruined. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Good morning,” Mr. Horse said coming over. “What happened to my wheat?” she cried. “It looks dead,” Mr. Horse stated. “Have you been watering it?” “No,” the little red hen said, shocked. I’ve never watered it before. You’ve always watered my patch for me.” “Have I?” Mr. Horse said. “Did you ask me to” “No,” the little red hen admitted. “You just always did.” “Oh,” Mr. Horse said flatly. “I must have forgotten.” The little red hen did not really have reponse for that. Defeated, she started to walk away. “Did you want some wheat?” Mr. Horse aksed casually. “Yes, please,” the little red hen said. “You have some?” “Last season, a few seeds from your harvest were left behind. I planted them in my section. You’re welcome to it. And if you replant yours, I can water it for you, if you’d like. ” “Thank you,” the little red hen said. “Thank you very much.” She selected some of the healthiest, most golden stalks of wheat and put them in her basket. Then she spent several minutes rounding up her chicks. Two were easy enough to grab, but the third one was hiding in the pants of the scarecrow. The little red hen went to the shed. She was very confused by the conversation she had just had with Mr. Horse. Thank goodness he had let her have some of his wheat, otherwise there would have been no bread. As she got to the shed she ran into another problem. The mortar and pestle were not on the shelf! That had never happened before. The little red hed just stood in the doorway. It occurred to her that she did not actually know who that mortar and pestle even belonged to. Not that it mattered. It had always been there for anyone to use, so really, any animal on the farm could have it now. The little red hen just stood in the doorway. Her chicks started climbing the shelves and running into the walls. After several minutes, Ms. Cat came in. “Excuse me,” was all she said. She walked in, placed the mortar and pestle back on the shelf, and left without another word. The little red hen breathed a sigh of relief and got to work. Grinding the flour actually went faster with the chicks help. They never seemed to get tired. The next stop was the well. “Good morning Ms. Cow,” the little red hen said. “Good morning,” she replied. “Where’s the bucket?” the little red hen exclaimed. Ms. Cow slowly turned her head to look. Sure enough, the bucket was missing from the well. “Weird,” was all she said. Luckily, the rope itself was still there. The little red hen tied her bottle to the rope. While she was focused on the knot, making sure it was secure, one of her chicks ran up to the well and tried to jump in. Ms. Cow stuck out a hoof with amazing speed and caught the chick. “Thank you,” the little red hen said. She had never seen Ms. Cow move that fast. “No problem,” she said, as if nothing had happened. The little red hen dropped her bottle into the well and got some water. This had been the strangest day ever. The little red hen was not surprised in the least bit when she got to the wood pile and found it empty. “Good morning, Ms. Sheep” she managed. “No wood?” “Good morning,” Ms. Sheep said with no indication that this was a strange situation. “Not today, no.” The little red hen and the chicks gathered some sticks in the nearby woods. They stopped by to check the coop on the way home. The other hens were still not there. The little red hen sighed and continued home. Even with the chicks in their playpen, the little red hen kept looking at them every few seconds. Having them in the same place as a hot stove was nerve wracking. But, nevertheless, eventually, the house did fill with the delicious smell of fresh bread. The little red hen stared at the loaves as they cooled on the shelf. She was tired. She was exhausted. She was spent. She was the weakest she had ever felt. She understood why. Today, she had done more work on her own than she had any other month. And even then, she did not do it on her own. Mr. Horse gave her the wheat. The chicks helped her grind the flour. That mortar and pestle belonged to someone, as did the bucket for the well. Ms. Cow probably saved one of her chick’s life. When the bread was cool, the little red hen took all of it and sliced it up. She wrapped it in little packages. Then, she gathered her chicks and headed out. “Thank you for watching my chicks for me,” she said as she gave some to the big hen. “I’m happy to,” she replied. “Thank you for watering my wheat,” she said as she gave some to Mr. Horse. “Of course,” he replied. “Thank you again for catching my chick,” she said as she gave some to Ms. Cow. Ms. Cow just nodded. “Thank you for cutting wood for us all,” she said as she gave some to Ms. Sheep. “Someone needs to,” she replied with a smile. “Do you know who that mortar and pestle belong to?” she asked as she gave some to Ms. Cat. “Most of the stuff in the shed is Mr. Dog’s,” Ms. Cat replied. The little red hen was shocked. She had never heard of or met, Mr. Dog. “Where does he live?” Ms. Cat told her. The little red hen trekked over to a part of the farm they had never been to before and knocked on the door. An old dog answered. “May I help you?” Mr. Dog said. “I was wondering if you’d like some bread,” the little red hen said. “I just baked it.” “Oh my,” Mr. Dog exclaimed. “That would be lovely. Thank you.” “Oh, no. Thank you. I just learned that the mortar and pestle I’ve been using for years is yours. You’ve helped me make countless loaves. That’s very kind of you that you let others use your tools.” “Well sure,” Mr. Dog said with a laugh. “None of us are alone here on this farm. How sad would it be if we didn’t help each other out? Thanks for the bread!” The little red hen returned home with her chicks. They sat down to eat their dinner. This batch of bread was not her best by any metric. Yet, for some reason, it tasted really good. This has been the Other Little Red Hen, adapted and read by Ryan Aoto. This has been a LibraryCall recording.