CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (feel good novels txt) 📗

They had not gone far before Monsieur Le Coq spotted a large number of black feathers scattered across the ground. He stopped next to the stump where Monsieur Marcel broke trees into pieces. The large woodchopper and the small woodchopper leaned against the stump, the blades gleaming in the bright sunlight. Lines of dried blood marred the sides of the stump.

“There’s blood over here,” Gamin called from several feet away. “And here.” He hopped to a new spot. “And over here.” Over and over, he called out as he went in a pattern that made absolutely no sense.

Why would there be Rex’s blood in so many different spots? Unless he was fighting off his attacker.

“Listen, kid. It seems your father was a fighter. Whoever tried to kill him didn’t have an easy job. He put up a real fight.”

Gamin beamed at Monsieur Le Coq. “Do you think I’ll grow up to be like him?”

“Sure, kid.” Hopefully, you won’t end up dead like him.

Monsieur Le Coq surveyed the area for any clue as to who might have done it. He could rule out the old rooster. The old bird wouldn’t have had the strength to win a one on one fight with a young viral cock like Rex.

Monsieur Le Coq plucked a gray feather lying among the flurry of black feathers on the ground. It was not a chicken feather. The grey was most definitely that of Faucon, the great killer. But why would he attack Rex when grouse were more to his palate?

“We must find Faucon,” Monsieur Le Coq announced.

“Mamma says to stay far away from him.”

“Very well. You may go back to the yard. Find out who was the last chicken to see Rex alive and inquire as to anything anyone might have seen around the time he went missing.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Monsieur Le Coq kept an eye on the chick until he was back at the coop before heading toward the pasture where Faucon was known to hunt.

“Monsieur Faucon! Are you about?” Monsieur Le Coq called out to the predator.

From above, the piercing cry of Faucon split the air. Monsieur Le Coq jumped backwards as a dead grouse fell from the sky, nearly hitting him.

Faucon, a light gray bird landed next to its meal. “Why are you interrupting my meal, chicken?” The falcon ripped into the side of bird pulling off a chunk of meat and downing it.

“One of our flock has been killed.” Monsieur Le Coq hid his disgust at Faucon’s savage ways.

“And you want to know if I did it.” Faucon lowered his head toward Monsieur Le Coq. The falcon glared over his blood-soaked beak at the chicken.

“No, I didn’t. Now go away.”

Blood splatted Monsieur Le Coq’s face.

Unfazed, the chicken continued. “I was hoping, since you have a much better view from where you fly, if you might have seen anything.”

“No. Now go away and leave me eat in peace.”

Faucon picked up the grouse and turned away from Monsieur Le Coq, hitting the chicken with its tail feathers.

“Where were you at dawn this morning?”

“Sleeping,” Faucon said, his beak full.

“Where?”

The falcon tore another bit from the carcass. “Ask me one more question, and I’ll repeal my prohibition on eating chicken.”

Monsieur Le Coq swallowed. It was not an idle threat. Faucon had terrorized the chicken yard when he was a young chick. Many a hen had become a meal for the predator.

“Very well, I will leave you to your grouse. Good day, Monsieur.” He resisted the urge to run back to the coop.

“Monsieur Le Coq! Monsieur Le Coq!” Gamin ran up to him as soon as he entered the yard. “You didn’t get eaten!”

“No, I didn’t. For which I am most grateful.” He wrapped his wing around the chick to calm him. “What did you find out?”

Gamin hopped from under the older bird’s wing. He shook like he was ready to explode. “Rex was last seen talking to a bunch of young hens over by the barn last night, but he left alone and Penny saw Monsieur Marcel heading to the barn before daylight this morning. She was up trying to catch some worms and no one else was up that early because Rex didn’t crow so everyone slept in except for Penny who was up catching worms.”

“Breathe, Kid.” Monsieur Le Coq waited until Gamin physically calmed. “Penny saw Monsieur in the yard this morning?”

The chick’s head bobbed in affirmation.

“I need to talk to her.”

“She’s in the hen house.”

Penny was dozing in her nest as were most of the hens when they entered.

“Mademoiselle, might I have a word with you?” Monsieur Le Coq said in a low voice, trying not to wake the other hens.

She opened one eye. “Will this take long? I’m awfully tired.”

“I just have some questions.”

She didn’t open the other eye. “Fine.”

“You were up before dawn this morning,” Monsieur Le Coq stated, recalling asking her about her worm hunting that morning.

“Yes. The worms are only out at night, so you have to get up when it’s dark if you want to catch them.”

“Gamin said that you saw Monsieur Marcel this morning. Have you seen him on other mornings?”

“No. He doesn’t usually come out until after Rex sounds the morning alarm.”

“Thank you for your time, Mademoiselle. You have been most helpful.”

Monsieur Le Coq ushered Gamin outside the coop. “It seems that Monsieur Marcel might have seen who killed Rex.”

“Are we going to question him?” Gamin asked.

“No, I don’t think so. The Monsieur doesn’t speak chicken.”

Monsieur Le Coq touched his wing to his beak. The investigation was at a standstill. He could not question the human and there was no one else to question. The killer might never be found.

“What now, Sir?” Gamin asked.

From the back door of the house, Monsieur Marcel appeared. He walked past the chicken coop and towards the barn.

“Let us follow him,” said Monsieur Le Coq. “Maybe we’ll find more clues.”

They ran across the yard, keeping the man in sight until he disappeared around the corner of the barn.

Monsieur Le Coq stopped at