We began as a small elite group. Momma Hen had an idea over an unboiled egg early one September morn as she was nestling and waiting for the longest dawn she had ever seen. She was most distraught because the roosters always got all the attention with their crowing in the early morning. The hens never got that kind of adoration.

Momma Hen decided then and there that this was discrimination. She decided the hens should start a group, and before long she had the support of all the hens in the barnyard.

At night they would fly the coop and go to the other hen houses around the vast farmland in the Delta. Why, they even made it as far as Piddlin' Acres and Peckerwood Deadning -- quite a flight for some of the young ones. Then, donned in their white hoods and with covered beaks, they enticed the other hens to flap their feathers and unite as one for the "hen-hood.”

This was long before "Chicken Lib" and way before Colonel Sanders had ever been heard of, you see.

The roosters were most upset at this uprising. The hens (in all their glory) shunned the agitated roosters, who, understandably, were quite owly by early morning and way too sleepy to crow.

The farmers in the area became most distraught too. There were few new hens being born and fewer and fewer eggs. Momma Hen had something going here that had never been experienced in these parts, needless to say in any area -- this was an "ovum" revolution.

But we hens are egg-static about the whole situation and are forever grateful for Momma Hen.

We are still carrying on the tradition – hooded beaks and all – and . . .

“WE SHALL PREVAIL!”