No, the Gold Rooster on the weather-vane on the top of the barn, though he
shone like the sun, could neither crow nor raise a family.

But Mother Wyandotte didn't bother about anything so high in the sky as the
sun and the rooster. She was busy playing nurse-maid to her little yellow
children and helping them find food.

But in the afternoon she did look up at the sky. That was when something
like a dark shadow sailed in the air far above the home of the White
Wyandottes.

It was a great bird with wide-stretched wings, much bigger than Jim Crow.
He sailed in circles, while his evil eye looked down at the frightened,
scampering White Wyandottes.

"Um!" How he would like a nice chicken for lunch!

"Robber Hawk!" called all of Mother Hen's uncles and aunts in the barnyard.

"Robber Hawk!" screamed all of her great-uncles and great-aunts too.

"Robber Hawk!" screamed all of her cousins, first, second, and third.

Loud and long barked Rover and Brownie. And little Wienerwurst stopped
chasing the pretty pink pigeons.

And even Mr. Stuckup, the turkey, had to join in the hubbub.

"Horrible robber, horrible robber," he gobbled.