Hens Before Breakfast

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" Mia heard it from her bed, and she was up before the sun. The hens were calling, and that meant one thing. The eggs were ready.

Mia pulled on her boots and ran across the yard. Her grandpa, the farmer, was already at the barn door with the big blue basket.

"Whose turn is it to carry it?" he asked.

"Mine," said Mia. "You carried it yesterday."

Grandpa smiled. "So I did. Here you go."

Mia held the basket tight. She had made a promise last night. She had promised Mama she would bring eggs for breakfast, and not one would break.

Inside the barn, the hay smelled sweet. Mia found the first egg, warm and brown. Then another. And another. Soon the basket was nearly full.

But one egg was missing. The hen called Biscuit sat on her nest and would not move.

"Please, Biscuit," said Mia. "May I have your egg?"

"Bock," said Biscuit, and she sat down harder.

Mia tried again. She tapped the straw and said, "Please, Biscuit," in her nicest voice. Biscuit only looked the other way.

Mia sat on an upturned bucket and thought. Why would a hen sit so still? She looked closer. Under Biscuit's wing, something wiggled. Then came a tiny sound.

Peep.

"Oh!" Mia whispered. "That is not an egg. That is a chick!"

Biscuit fluffed her feathers. Two eggs sat beside a small yellow head, round as a lemon. The shell was cracked, and the chick was pushing its way out.

"You were not hiding your egg," said Mia softly. "You were keeping it warm."

She did not take the egg. She took only the eggs in the basket, and she sat quietly with Biscuit instead.

Peep, went the chick.

At breakfast, Mama counted the eggs. "Not one broken," she said.

Mia looked out the window at the barn. Somewhere inside, a hen and her new chick were snuggled in the hay, and the morning was warm and quiet.