WHY REDDY WENT WITHOUT A CHICKEN DINNER
A dinner is far better lost
Than eaten at too great a
cost.
Bowser the Hound.
Can you imagine Reddy Fox with a chicken
dinner right before him and not touching it?
Well, that is just what happened in Farmer Brown’s
henhouse. It wasn’t because Reddy had no
appetite. He was hungry, very hungry. He
always is in winter. Then it doesn’t often
happen that he gets enough to eat at one meal to really
fill his stomach. Yet here he was with a chicken
dinner right before him, and he didn’t touch
it.
You see it was this way: Reddy’s
wits were working very fast there in Farmer Brown’s
henhouse. He knew that he had only a forlorn chance
of escaping when Farmer Brown’s boy should come
to open the henhouse in the morning. He knew
that he must make the most of that forlorn chance.
He knew that freedom is a thousand times better than
a full stomach.
On one of the lower roosts sat a fat
hen. She was within easy jumping distance.
Reddy knew that with one quick spring she would be
his. If the henyard gate had been open, he would
have wasted no time in making that one quick spring.
But the henyard gate, as you know, was closed fast.
“I’m awfully hungry,”
muttered Reddy to himself, “but if I should catch
and eat that fat hen, Farmer Brown’s boy would
be sure to notice the feathers on the floor the very
minute he opened the door. It won’t do,
Reddy; it won’t do. You can’t afford
to have the least little thing seem wrong in this
henhouse. What you have got to do is to swallow
your appetite and keep quiet in the darkest corner
you can find,”
So Reddy Fox spent the rest of the
night curled up in the darkest corner, partly behind
a box. All the time his nose was filled with the
smell of fat hens. Every little while a hen who
was being crowded too much on the roost would stir
uneasily and protest in a sleepy voice. Just
think of what Reddy suffered. Just think how you
would feel to be very, very hungry and have right
within reach the one thing you like best in all the
world to eat and then not dare touch it. Some
foolish folks in Reddy’s place would have eaten
that dinner and trusted to luck to get out of trouble
later. But Reddy was far too wise to do anything
of that kind.
Doing as Reddy did that night is called
exercising self-restraint. Everybody should be
able to do it. But it sometimes seems as if very
many people cannot do it. Anyway, they don’t
do it, and because they don’t do it they are
forever getting into trouble.
Reddy knew when morning came, although
the henhouse was still dark. Somehow or other
hens always know just when jolly, round, red Mr. Sun
kicks his blankets off and begins his daily climb up
in the blue, blue sky. The big rooster on the
topmost perch stretched his long neck, flapped his
wings, and crowed at the top of his voice. Reddy
shivered. “It won’t be long now before
Farmer Brown’s boy comes,” thought he.