The Chicken Who Knew Everything

“I’ll give you a good deal for her,” Fluffy heard the farmer’s gruff voice say.

He held her in his strong, calloused hands. These were the hands she had known ever since she was a chick. Fluffy felt safe in his arms. She trilled softly and bobbed her head to show her appreciation. Fluffy liked when her father held her. He was always gentle, unlike the bigger chickens in the coop who pecked and clawed at her when she tried to pick at the handfuls of grain that were tossed on the ground for all of them.

Fluffy found herself facing two bright silver eyes on an unnaturally smooth face.

“She’s beautiful,” a young man’s voice said. “Why so cheap?”

“She doesn’t lay,” the farmer said, handing Fluffy off to this stranger. “So, she’s of no use to me. But she’s got a good body. Could make a nice roast, or even a stew. My wife makes the best chicken and dumplings. Do you have a wife?”

“I’ll take her,” the younger man said, politely ignoring the farmer’s intrusive question. 

When the new hands gripped Fluffy with an unfamiliar discomfort, she twisted and squawked. The farmer chuckled. 

“Do you need a crate for her?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said the young man. He stroked her feathers gently, and Fluffy was soothed. “I’m going to take good care of you,” he whispered in her ear.

The young man didn’t own any other chickens. Fluffy slept peacefully in a nest of hay, wishing only that he had come by with handfuls of grain like the farmer used to. Hopefully he would in the morning.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the young man told the crowd before them. “This is no ordinary chicken.”

Fluffy clucked in the young man’s arms, wondering what the commotion was about. 

“I bought her from a traveling gypsy family who was loathe to part with her. But when I saw what this bird could do, I offered a sum of money that they did not dare turn down.”

The crowd listened curiously, if skeptically.  

“For this is no ordinary chicken,” the magician spoke with a dramatic flair. “She is…” he paused dramatically. “A psychic.”

The audience tittered disbelieving.

“I know! I had the same reaction myself before I saw her abilities. They are undeniable. Today, I invite you to bear witness to her wisdom. Does anyone have a question for the bird?”

“Yeah, what stocks should I invest in?” a man yelled out cheekily.

The magician pointed at him. “Yes! Brilliant. Now, what I will do is use this chalk to draw a circle on the ground. I will divide the circle into 26 sections and put a piece of grain into each section. Then, we’ll place Fluffy here in the middle of the circle. As she chooses a piece of grain, I will write down that letter until she is finished giving us her answer.”

A hand in the audience went up. 

“I will replace each piece of grain after she eats it, in case Fluffy wants to spell out a word with multiple occurrences of the same letter.” 

The hand went down.

The magician placed Fluffy in the center of the circle. She was surrounded by grain evenly spaced out around her. The energy of the crowd pressed in. Her heart pounded and she tried to run, but the magician grabbed her by the body and held her in place.

“Now, I must admit that chickens aren’t the most literate of animals. So, it might happen that her words need some interpretation. But that is what I am here to offer. Please bear with me and keep an open mind.”

The audience murmured amongst themselves. There was some laughter. 

The magician leaned his head down next to Fluffy’s. “Eat, my girl,” he told her kindly. “I know you’re hungry.”

But months of pecking and abuse at the mercy of the bigger chickens had left Fluffy fearful. Her head darted around. She was afraid to move toward a piece of grain until the bigger birds had fed. She was certain they would appear from behind a corner the second she moved.

The crowd was getting impatient. Some people in the back started to walk away.

“Don’t go!” the magician called out desperately. “She needs some time! Please, I assure you this will be well worth it.”

“Come on,” he urged Fluffy with a whisper. “You can do it.”

Fluffy was scared, but his voice calmed her. A pang ran through her stomach. She was hungry. Fluffy bobbed her head around, checking for danger. Then, finally, she started walking toward a piece of grain. Suddenly—for a reason she could not explain—she got the urge to change directions.

Fluffy moved with determination to a different piece of grain. She ate it. Delicious. 

She clucked happily then quickly moved to another.

By the time Fluffy picked up her third piece of grain, the whole audience had grown silent. After seven pieces, not a single person moved to even scratch their nose.

Though she wasn’t quite full, something compelled Fluffy to stop. She returned to the magician’s arms, hoping that he would reward her with more food and cuddles for a job well done.

“Well, there you have it,” the magician said in a low voice. It sounded like he was trying to hide how shocked he was. “Clearly this needs no interpretation,” his voice regained confidence, and he pointed to the man in the audience. “This is the company you should all invest in.”

The audience laughed, but not as forcefully as before. Some people were actually tapping on their phones, taking note, making moves.

After that, Fluffy’s life changed forever. 

The magician did in fact reward her with even more grain. He let her sleep in his apartment, where she felt warm and safe, more so than she ever did in the chicken coop. And she performed for audiences again and again.

“The chicken who has predicted Silicon Valley’s five latest unicorns!” a booming voice echoed across the stage. 

The biggest audience Fluffy ever had pressed in around them. Hot, artificial lights shone down on her. The magician held her in his lap as he sat on a stiff couch.

“So, tell me,” Jimmy Fallon asked the magician. “What’s your secret? Is it insider trading?”

The audience laughed. The magician smiled.

“I can’t explain it,” he insisted. “She really just knows.”

“Incredible.” The TV host smiled down at Fluffy. “And now a question for you, Fluffy.”

He gave the audience an incredulous wink like “Can you believe I’m talking to a chicken??”

“Who is going to win the Oscar for best picture?”

Fluffy bobbed her head and clucked.

“I’ll set up the circle,” the magician answered for her.

A few months later, the two of them watched a ceremony on his TV together. When an announcement was made, the magician leapt up and cheered. He held a bottle until it made a loud pop, and he poured a sweet-smelling liquid into a glass.

The magician gave Fluffy some cheese, blackberries, and mealworms. For the rest of the night, she feasted happily while the magician fielded one phone call after another.

***

Fluffy had become used to big crowds and brightly lit stages, so when the magician brought her into a small, fluorescent lit office, she cowered uncertainly. 

“And she can really predict the future?” the man in a suit and glasses asked.

“With 100% accuracy,” the magician answered.

“How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it,” the magician insisted. “She does.”

The man knelt down next to Fluffy and peered through his glasses. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he sighed. “But the President wants to know where the next terrorist attack will happen.”

Fluffy clucked confidently. She was antsy to get out onto the circle, pick at the pieces of grain, and earn her reward.

But for the first time, she felt the magician’s heart beat faster next to her. His palms were wet against her feathers. He gulped down, and she sensed his fear. 

“Of course,” he told the man. “I’ll set her up.”

***

For the second time in her life, Fluffy found herself being passed from one man to another.

The magician’s voice cracked. He held back tears.

“Mr. President,” he forced out. “It would be an honor.”

The magician’s soft hands held Fluffy away from his body, and a pair of wrinkled, arthritic hands took her from the life she knew. They immediately passed her along to a woman standing next to him. 

“The White House kitchen staff will take good care of her,” the old man promised.

The magician’s face turned white with fear and regret. “And the payment?” he requested. 

“Has already been transferred to your account. You will never have to work again.”

The magician nodded as if this would console him. 

The President of the United States looked down at Fluffy. 

“I hope you understand that it’s an issue of national security to have an animal with this much intelligence in the hands of a civilian.” He smiled at her, and she trilled with pleasure. The humans had always been so kind to her. She knew this big, powerful family would be no different.

The President shook the magician’s hand, and the two of them posed for a photo.

Her new owner walked with his staff back to his office. 

“Tell our chef to prepare chicken and dumplings.”