Speckles the Hen

A Tale of Simple Joys and True Wealth

For children ages 3–7. Approximate listening time: 11 minutes.

Transcript

Speckles the Hen: A Tale of Simple Joys and True Wealth. Once upon a time, in a small, quiet village, there stood a pretty little wooden house. It had a red roof, a brown chimney, and small windows with clean white curtains. Around the house grew a beautiful green garden. Tall yellow sunflowers nodded beside the path, green apples hung from the trees, and the leaves whispered softly in the wind. Whoosh, whoosh. In the little house lived an old man and an old woman. We will call them Grandpa and Grandma. They were very, very old. Their hair was white like snow and they walked very slowly, but they were happy. They loved their quiet little house, and they loved each other very much. Every morning, they woke early as the first sunlight reached their windows. Grandpa liked to work among the flowers and apple trees in his garden. Grandma liked to bake fresh, warm bread in the kitchen. They did not have much money, fancy clothes, or grand possessions, but they had a very special friend: a beautiful speckled hen named Speckles. Speckles had brown feathers, black feathers, and white feathers, as if someone had painted tiny spots all over her. Every morning she strutted around the green yard and greeted her friends. “Cluck, cluck, cluck! Good morning, Grandpa. Good morning, Grandma!” Speckles said cheerfully. Grandpa and Grandma loved Speckles dearly and took very good care of her. Grandpa scattered the best yellow seeds for her to eat, and Grandma filled her little dish with clean, fresh water. Speckles loved them too. Every single day she settled into her cozy nest, inside a wooden box filled with soft yellow straw, and laid one beautiful, smooth white egg. They cooked it for breakfast, ate it with Grandma's warm bread, and were perfectly happy. One morning, the sun shone especially brightly and little birds sang high in the tall trees. It was a beautiful day. Grandma was in the kitchen, carefully pouring some hot tea, when she heard Speckles calling from the yard. But these were not her usual quiet morning clucks. Speckles was very loud! “Cluck, cluck, cluck! Come and see! Come and see!” It sounded as though Speckles were saying, Look what I have! Come and see! Grandma wiped her hands on her apron and walked as quickly as she could into the yard. She bent over the wooden nesting box and looked inside. Then she blinked. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She could hardly believe what she saw. There on the yellow straw sat an egg made of pure, shiny gold. It sparkled so brightly in the sunlight that Grandma had to cover her eyes. “Oh my goodness!” Grandma whispered, hardly daring to breathe. She carefully picked up the golden egg. It was much heavier than a normal egg. Then she hurried into the house as fast as her old legs could go. “Grandpa! Grandpa! Come quickly!” she called, her voice trembling with excitement. From the garden came the soft shuffle of Grandpa's hurried footsteps. “What is it? What is it?” Grandpa asked breathlessly. “Look at this.” Grandma said softly, opening her hands. Grandpa's mouth fell wide open. “A golden egg!” he exclaimed. “Our dear Speckles has given us a magical, golden egg!” Grandpa and Grandma sat together at the wooden kitchen table. They placed the beautiful golden egg right in the middle and gazed at it for a long, long time. It was so smooth, so heavy, and so pretty. But soon Grandpa's empty tummy began to make a noise. Rumble, grumble. For all its beauty, the golden egg had not made him any less hungry. “It is a very beautiful egg,” Grandpa said thoughtfully. He rubbed his hungry tummy and added, “But it is time for breakfast. We cannot eat solid gold. We must break it open to cook the egg inside.” Grandpa took a little wooden spoon and tapped the egg. Tap, tap, tap. But the egg did not break. He took a bigger spoon and tried again. Bang, bang, bang! Still, the egg did not break. “Let me try!” Grandma said with determination. She raised a heavy metal spoon and struck with all her strength. Clank, clank, clank! The golden egg was too strong. It did not have a single crack. Grandpa hit it again. Bang! Nothing. Grandma hit it again. Clank! Nothing. They tried and tried, first gently and then with all their strength, but the egg would not break. They were tired, hungry, and terribly disappointed. At last they sat down at the table, covered their faces with their hands, and began to cry. Hoo, hoo, hoo. Now, under the floor of the little wooden house lived a tiny grey mouse. He had a long pink tail, two small round ears, and a little pink nose that was always moving. Sniff, sniff, sniff. The mouse was hungry too. He smelled Grandma's fresh bread in the kitchen and decided to come upstairs to look for a few little crumbs. The tiny mouse quietly climbed the leg of the wooden table. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter went his little feet. At the top, he poked his nose over the edge. Grandpa was crying, and Grandma was crying too. And there, in the middle of the table, he saw the big, shiny golden egg. The loud crying frightened the little mouse. He wanted to escape as quickly as he could! He dashed across the table, past Grandma's cup of tea. Zoom! Then past Grandpa's empty plate. Zoom! And as he raced by the golden egg... swish! His long pink tail wagged just a little too far. The mouse's tail struck the heavy golden egg. Wobble, wobble. The egg began to move. Roll, roll. Slowly at first, and then faster, it rolled closer and closer to the edge of the wooden table. Grandpa gasped. Grandma gasped. But neither of them could reach it in time. The egg tipped over the edge and fell from the table. Crash! Smash! It struck the hard wooden floor. And guess what? The strong golden egg broke at last! It shattered into hundreds of tiny, shining pieces. Grandpa and Grandma stared down at the pieces. But there was no egg white inside. There was no yellow yolk inside. The magical egg had been nothing but an empty shell made of gold. It was beautiful, but it could never have become their breakfast. They were still just as hungry as before. “Oh no! Our beautiful egg is broken!” cried Grandpa. “And we still have no breakfast!” cried Grandma sadly. Just then, a soft familiar cluck sounded at the door. Speckles walked into the kitchen. She saw the sad old man, the sad old woman, and the glittering pieces on the floor. Then she hopped onto the table and looked lovingly at them both. “Do not cry, Grandpa.” Speckles said softly. “Do not cry, Grandma.” Grandpa and Grandma wiped the tears from their eyes and listened to their dear friend. “I am sorry the golden egg made you sad,” Speckles said gently. Then she gave a wise little cluck and added, “Gold is very pretty, yes. But gold is not good for breakfast. Gold is too hard. Gold is too cold.” “Tomorrow is a new day, and I promise you this...” Speckles gently flapped her speckled wings. “I will never lay another golden egg. Tomorrow I will lay a nice, simple, smooth white egg for you, just the way you like it. You can boil it or fry it, and you will have a wonderful breakfast with warm bread.” Grandpa and Grandma smiled. They stopped crying and hugged their wonderful speckled hen. In that moment, they understood that the simplest things are often the very best things. The next morning, the sun shone brightly once more. And just as she had promised, Speckles laid a beautiful, smooth white egg. Grandpa broke the ordinary egg easily with one little tap. Grandma cooked a delicious breakfast, and they ate it with her fresh, warm bread. Their tummies were full, their little kitchen felt cozy again, and they were never hungry again. From that day on, they treasured their simple breakfast more than all the gold in the world. And Grandpa, Grandma, and Speckles the Hen lived happily ever after in their little wooden house. The end.

Speckles the Hen

Transcript

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