When i was much younger, i wrote and illustrated a story about a plain
brown bird. I wish i could find it.

The brown bird found a magic seed and got three wishes.
It wanted to be like a frog
instead of the bubble thing frogs/toads get
he ended up getting a wattle instead of ribbiting,
he lost his singing voice and could only cockadoodledoo.
It wanted to be like a peacock
instead of having pretty tail feathers
he got tail feathers that prevented him from flying again.

Once upon a time, there was a farm. On one of the wide open plains of the farm, bordered by the tall trees of a nearby forest, sat a house of chickens. One bright, sunny, cloudless day, the lawn in from of the house was filled with fluffy brown hens. Happily clamoring away, pecking at the green grass below, not a single hen cared that their wings wouldn’t reach the open blue skies. In an instant, everything stopped. With a loud screech, the rooster stepped up onto the platform of an elevated tree stump. Each and every hen rushed with frantic fervor to climb back into the house. Those that couldn’t penetrate the chaotic ruffle of feathers by the door squeezed themselves into the haven of shade underneath the house. The rooster stood alone outside on the tree stump, continuing his steady rhythm of screeching alarm. Up above on the tree tops of the nearby forest, there perched a hawk in predatory wait. Surveying the field below, he saw all his prey hen vanish into places he could not touch. All that was left in plain sight was a red-headed rooster, uttering an incessant annoyance – a sight so unappetizing, all the hawk could do was leave his perch and fly away.

This is a true story.

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