The Proud Hen – A Fable About Pride and Foolishness

Once upon a time, in a cheerful little farm nestled between rolling green hills, there lived a hen named Henrietta. Henrietta wasn’t just any hen — she was the most famous hen on the farm. Her reputation was built on one remarkable achievement: every single egg she ever laid hatched into a strong, healthy chick. Because of this, Henrietta held her head high and strutted around the farmyard with an air of pride that no other animal could match.

The other animals admired her, but they also quietly noted that Henrietta never let anyone forget her success. She was always reminding the hens, the birds in the trees, and even the lazy barn cat of her flawless record. If there was a chance to mention her perfect hatching history, Henrietta would seize it.

As the seasons passed, Henrietta began to grow older, but her pride never wavered. Then one spring morning, to everyone’s surprise, Henrietta laid seven eggs — more than she had ever laid before. This, she declared, was going to be her greatest achievement yet.

News of her accomplishment spread across the farm like wildfire. The other hens clucked excitedly, the birds chirped the news from tree to tree, and the animals gathered around the henhouse to see the famous seven eggs. Even a passing squirrel paused in her nut-gathering to admire them, declaring, “Seven is a lucky number, Henrietta! Surely this will be your best brood yet!”

Later that evening, the wise old barn owl paid Henrietta a visit. They exchanged stories of motherhood, and the owl gently mentioned Henrietta’s age, suggesting she take extra care with the eggs.

“Age has nothing to do with it!” Henrietta clucked indignantly. “I’ve never failed to hatch an egg, and I don’t intend to start now!”

With that, Henrietta settled on her nest, keeping her eggs warm day and night. As she waited, she imagined the adorable chicks that would soon emerge, and she carefully picked names for each one.

Finally, the much-anticipated day arrived. The first egg cracked open, then the second, then the third, and the fourth — each revealing a peeping, fluffy chick. Henrietta beamed with pride. But then, the hatching stopped. The last three eggs remained stubbornly still.

Whispers began to circulate among the farm animals. Some believed the remaining eggs just needed more time. Others exchanged doubtful glances. But Henrietta refused to admit that anything was wrong. She sat on the remaining eggs day after day, convinced that they would eventually hatch.

Meanwhile, her four chicks chirped hungrily, seeking their mother’s warmth and guidance. But Henrietta was too fixated on the three unhatched eggs to notice. She brushed her living chicks aside, muttering, “Just wait, your siblings will arrive soon.”

Seeing the poor chicks neglected, the other hens stepped in. Out of pity, they took the chicks under their wings, feeding them and keeping them warm.

Days turned into weeks, and the remaining eggs began to rot. The smell was unpleasant, but Henrietta refused to budge. She was too proud to acknowledge that she had failed to hatch them. Even when her body grew weak and frail, she sat steadfastly on the rotting eggs, clinging to her pride.

And there she remained — waiting for the impossible — until her dying day.

Moral of the Story:

Foolish pride can blind us to reality, leading to neglect and self-destruction.
Or, as the old saying goes, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”