The Black Hen

In a village there was a hen with jet-black, glossy feathers. Every morning she laid an egg in the barn and then wandered around the yard. One morning she came back to the barn and the egg was gone! The black hen turned the whole place upside down: "Cluck, cluck, cluck, where is my egg?"

The goat came: "I haven't seen it, but let's look under the straw." They looked; nothing. The cat came: "Maybe it rolled behind the basket." They looked; nothing. The rooster shouted from the roof: "It's not in the yard either, my eyes see everything!" The donkey said, "Maybe the children took it, let's look in the house." The farmer's wife said, "I didn't take it."

All the animals gathered and put their heads together. The dog sniffed the ground and found a trail: a thin trail leading from the barn to the garden. They followed it. In the corner of the garden, under the rose bush, sat the neighbor's little girl. In her lap was the egg, and in her eyes were tears.

"I took it," said the girl. "But my mother is ill, and I wanted to make her soup. We don't have a hen."

The black hen was quiet for a moment. Then she stroked the girl's cheek with her wing: "Take the egg, but never take one again without asking. Every morning one egg shall be yours, until your mother is well."

The girl ran off happily. The animals went back to the yard. The rooster laughed, "We turned the whole village upside down for one egg." "Not for the egg," said the black hen. "For each other. Today it was my egg that went missing; tomorrow it could be your comb."

The rooster felt his comb with his claw; it was still there. Everyone laughed. The sun went down, the yard grew quiet, and the black hen climbed onto her perch. That night the smell of soup drifted over from the neighbor's house. And the black hen closed her eyes: cluck... cluck... cluck... zzz.