Cradle to Cave

    My education began the moment I hatched.  One look at me, and all of the other chicks huddled on the other side of the coop.  They were terrified.  The people checking in on us had similar looks on their faces.

    "That was a big egg, alright, but that ain't no ostrich,"  they said.

    Lesson one:  I was different.

    Lesson two:  I was ugly.

    I caught a glimpse of myself in the water bucket.  If I was a chicken, I was a new kind.  One with a long snout.  With scales, sharp teeth and a tail that was as long as the rest of me.

    Lesson three:  I was alone.

    This was true on a couple of levels.  As I sat on the edge of a nest contemplating my place, I inadvertently snatched up the chicks that wandered close by, plucking them into my mouth as I pondered.  It just happened.  Like my getting the hiccups and accidentally burning the coop to the ground.  Apparently, breathing fire is a skill that needs to be mastered.  Like I said, I was all alone now.

    Turns out I'm less a chicken and more a dragon.  We lay our eggs wherever, and one at a time because we can't stay any one place for too long as our presence will cause excitement.  We can fly but prefer to walk because it keeps us from being noticed.  We live in caves if we can find one because they tend to be fire resistant.  We collect treasure because it's shiny and reminds us of the sun that we rarely see-- we've exchanged sunlight for anonimity.

    Lesson four:  If you can help it, don't be born a dragon.  You will be a much happier chicken.