A 'Little' Story

She was supposed to be raking leaves.

But you know how an assigned job can be forgotten. Or an assigned worker . . . sidetracked.

I know it happens to me. Why, once . . .

Never mind.

Chicken Little Feathers, of the Merrywoods Feathers, was supposed to be working. C. Little, as she preferred to be called, had been asked to rake the leaves in the front yard.

Now admittedly, the front yard was enormous, taking in, as it did, most of the forest.

But C. Little, full of energy and good intentions started in with a will.

An hour later, with several enormous piles of well-raked leaves behind her and several thousand more ahead, she decided to take a well-deserved break.

Any of us would have done it. I know I would.

She flopped down into one of her heaps of crunchy, brightly-coloured leaves.

For a few seconds, she lay there happily, totally relaxed.

A small breeze sprang up, cooling her slightly over-heated self.

But this breeze, unbeknownst (Ooh! Good word!) to her, also twirled cheerfully around the tree just over her head.

An oak tree.

With dozens of baby oaks—AKA: acorns—nestled snugly against their parent.

Well most of them were snug.

One or two, not so much.

You can probably guess what happened next.

Yep. One of them lost its grip and dropped straight down (This acorn wasn’t going to fall far from the tree!) onto the head of the little would-be gardener thirty feet below.

Now I know there are often comparisons made between mighty oaks and their tiny, little acorns.

And acorns are comparatively tiny.

But drop one from thirty feet onto your head and see how you feel.

C. Little gasped and sat straight up, one wing over the rapidly-swelling bruise on her little head. She looked up into the tree and came to the only conclusion possible. A piece of the sky, barely glimpsed between the thick branches of the towering oak, must have somehow become detached and fallen.

Okay, yes, there are other conclusions. Each of which would have been vastly superior to the one jumped to.

But we’re talking about a little, feather-headed chicken here.

C. Little leaped to her feet and screamed.

Loud enough for one of her nearby friends, Goosy Loosy (hey, I didn’t name these people) to hear her. She hurried over.

“What is it, Lit? What’s wrong?”

“Loos! The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” C. Little pointed in the general direction of up.

Goosy Loosy tipped her head, peering along the trajectory of the pointing feather. She frowned a rather goosy frown, then looked back at C. Little. “I don’t see any . . .”

And it was at that precise moment that the second of the not-so-snug acorns lost its not-so-powerful hold on its parent.

Hitting Miss Loosy right on top of her rounded goosy head.

“Gahhh!” she screamed. “It’s true! It’s true!”

Okay, say what you will about panic. It has been known to motivate people to do amazing things.

Most of them bad.

“We must go and warn the king!” C. Little screamed. “The entire kingdom is at risk!”

And, just like that, the two of them were off.

Now I won’t bore you with the details of their encounters with several other members of the feather-headed variety that peopled (you know what I mean) the forest.

Suffice it to say their hysteria was contagious and leave it at that.

Soon there was a panicky, but determined group of would-be saviours on their way to warn the king of the imminent danger to, and probable destruction of, his kingdom.

Partway there, they came upon a rather shifty fellow by the name of Loxy. First name Foxy.

Who, quite notably, wasn’t panicking.

“Wooah, Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “What seems to be the problem?”

Now, normally, when there exists a mob situation, the individuals in it have ceased to think as individuals.

This was far from a normal situation.

But part of it, notably the whole not-thinking-for-themselves part, was still very much in effect.

Sigh.

Moving on . . .

“You might not have noticed it yet,” C. Little started out . . .

“BUT THE SKY IS FALLING!” The rest of the group chimed in.

Mr. Loxy looked up at the cloudless, blue sky, then back to them. “Seriously?”

Several feathered heads nodded.

He raised a rather foxy eyebrow. “Huh!”

“We’re on our way to warn the king!” C. Little said importantly.

“I bow to your selflessness and industry,” Mr. Loxy said. Again he looked at the sky. “It’s funny how serene everything looks. You’d never know there was a problem.”

“Hah! Remember the Titanic! And how serene it appeared to be in the early minutes after striking the iceberg!”

Everyone turned to look at Miss Loosy.

“Say what?” Mr. Loxy said. “Ti-. . .”

Goosy Loosy’s eyes shifted away. Then back. “. . .-tanic. It was a ship. That . . .  you know what? Never mind.”

Mr. Loxy gave her a long look, then took a deep breath. “So back to our discussion. You’re on your way to warn the king?”

C. Little nodded. “Yes. It’s our civic duty.”

“It’s a long way to the palace from here,” Mr. Loxy said. “Look. Why don’t you come to my apartment and just post things on Forestbook. Everyone will get the message and of course they will believe it. And share it millions of times. The king is sure to hear.”

“Oooh! That sounds so much easier,” Ducky Lucky said. He held out one of his little, duck feet. “All this walking is making my arches fall.”

The little feather-headed mob was soon in agreement (see above vis-à-vis mob mentality) and following Mr. Loxy toward his apartment/lair.

It will probably not be a surprise to learn that Mr. Loxy, contrary to what he said, had absolutely no intention of helping them out.

In fact, he was more concerned with what was going into his stomach than what may be falling out of the sky.

And it will probably be equally non-shocking to hear that none of the good-hearted but woefully-ignorant citizens ever emerged from Mr. Loxy’s lair.

There are several lessons to be learned.

1.                When the world around you seems to be panicking, don’t.

2.                Seek credible sources.

3.                Not everyone has your best interests at heart.

4.                Troubles bring out the good or the bad in people.

5.                Be one of the good.