The Death of the Little Hen

In a peaceful farmyard surrounded by rolling meadows and shaded by a large apple tree, there lived a rooster and a little hen who were the very best of friends. They had grown up together from the time they were tiny chicks, and their friendship was so strong that they were never seen apart.

The rooster was proud and handsome, with brilliant red feathers that gleamed in the sunlight and a magnificent tail that he carried high. But despite his impressive appearance, he was gentle and kind, especially to his dear friend the little hen.

The little hen was small and brown, with soft feathers and bright, intelligent eyes. She was cheerful and sweet-natured, always finding something to be happy about, and her contentment brought joy to everyone around her.

Every morning, the rooster and the little hen would wake up together and venture out to search for food. They would scratch in the dirt side by side, sharing whatever seeds, worms, or grains they found. If the rooster discovered a particularly delicious morsel, he would always call the little hen over to share it with him.

“Come quickly, my dear friend,” he would say. “I’ve found something wonderful, and it’s much too good to eat alone.”

The little hen would hurry over with her quick, cheerful steps, and they would enjoy their meal together, chattering happily about their plans for the day.

One beautiful autumn morning, when the leaves on the apple tree had turned brilliant shades of gold and red, the rooster and the little hen decided to venture beyond their usual foraging areas. They had heard that there were particularly tasty nuts growing on the hillside beyond the farmyard.

“Let’s go on an adventure today,” suggested the little hen excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to see what lies beyond the big oak tree at the edge of our field.”

“What a wonderful idea,” agreed the rooster. “We’ll explore together and see what treasures we can find.”

So off they went, walking side by side through the meadow and up the gentle slope of the hill. The morning was crisp and clear, perfect for an expedition, and both friends were in high spirits.

As they climbed higher, they came across a nut tree laden with ripe hazelnuts. The little hen’s eyes lit up with delight when she saw them.

“Oh, look at all those beautiful nuts!” she exclaimed. “They look absolutely delicious!”

“Indeed they do,” agreed the rooster. “But they’re quite high up. How shall we reach them?”

The little hen, being smaller and more agile than the rooster, had an idea. “I’ll fly up and knock some down for us to share,” she offered generously.

Before the rooster could suggest a safer plan, the little hen had fluttered up into the branches of the nut tree. She began pecking at the nuts, trying to knock them loose so they could both enjoy them.

But as she worked, stretching to reach a particularly large and tempting nut, her foot slipped on the smooth bark of the branch. She lost her balance and fell, striking her head hard on a large stone that lay beneath the tree.

The rooster rushed to her side immediately. “My dear friend!” he cried in alarm. “Are you hurt?”

But the little hen did not answer. The fall had been too severe, and she lay perfectly still, her bright eyes closed forever.

The rooster’s grief was overwhelming. He nuzzled his friend gently with his beak, trying desperately to wake her up. “Please, dear hen, please open your eyes,” he pleaded. “We still have so many adventures to share together.”

But the little hen could not hear him anymore. She had died instantly from her fall, and no amount of love or pleading could bring her back.

The rooster sat beside his friend for a long time, his proud head bowed with sorrow. He could not imagine life without his beloved companion, the one who had shared every day of his existence since they were both tiny chicks.

Finally, with great care and tenderness, the rooster picked up the little hen in his beak and began the sorrowful journey back to the farmyard. His heart was broken, and each step felt heavier than the last.

When he reached the farm, all the other animals gathered around, sensing that something terrible had happened. The farmer and his wife came out to see what was wrong, and when they saw the rooster carrying his lifeless friend, their own eyes filled with tears.

“Poor rooster,” said the farmer’s wife softly. “He loved that little hen more than anything in the world.”

The farmer dug a small grave beneath the apple tree where the rooster and hen had spent so many happy hours together. With great ceremony, they laid the little hen to rest, while the rooster stood beside the grave, his magnificent tail feathers drooping with grief.

From that day forward, the rooster was a changed bird. He stopped eating, despite the farmer’s attempts to tempt him with his favorite foods. He no longer crowed at dawn to greet the morning sun. Instead, he spent all his time sitting beside the little hen’s grave, keeping a faithful vigil.

The other animals tried to comfort him. The ducks waddled over to sit with him quietly. The barn cat brushed against his feathers gently. Even the old cow mooed softly in sympathy. But the rooster could not be consoled.

“Life has no meaning without my dear friend,” he would whisper to himself. “All the joy has gone out of the world.”

Days passed, and the rooster grew weaker and weaker. He refused all food and water, and his beautiful feathers began to lose their luster. It became clear to everyone that the rooster was dying of a broken heart.

On the third day after the little hen’s death, as the sun was setting behind the hills, the rooster laid his head down beside his friend’s grave for the last time. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and peacefully joined his beloved companion in eternal rest.

The farmer and his wife found him there the next morning and wept for the depth of love and loyalty they had witnessed. They buried the faithful rooster right beside the little hen, beneath the apple tree where they had shared so many happy moments.

“They were never apart in life,” said the farmer’s wife, wiping away her tears. “It’s only fitting that they should be together forever in death.”

The farmer planted a small rose bush between their graves, and every spring it bloomed with the most beautiful flowers anyone had ever seen—red roses for the rooster’s magnificent feathers and white roses for the little hen’s pure and loving heart.

Years passed, and the story of the rooster and the little hen became a legend in the countryside. People would come from far and wide to see the rose bush that grew between their graves, and parents would tell their children about the true friendship and loyal love that the two birds had shared.

“Remember,” they would say, “that real friendship means being willing to share everything—joy and sorrow, adventures and quiet moments, and even life itself. The rooster and the little hen showed us that some bonds of love are so strong that not even death can break them.”

And to this day, whenever people see a rooster and hen together in a farmyard, they remember the tale of the faithful friends whose love was so deep that it lasted beyond the end of their earthly lives, teaching us all about the precious gift of true and loyal friendship.