THE ROOSTER IN THE CHICKEN Coop AND THE ROCK IN THE WEATHER VAN

Once upon a time, there were two roosters, one perched on a pile of manure, and the other on the rooftop. Both were equally proud. But which of the two was more valuable? Share your thoughts...we won't change our minds.

The courtyard was separated from the rest of the yard by a fence. In the courtyard, there was a heap of manure, and a magnificent cucumber plant grew nearby. The cucumber plant knew it was quite exceptional.

"It all depends on one's perspective," thought the cucumber. "Not everyone can be a cucumber; there must be other creatures too. The hens, the ducks, and all the inhabitants of the neighboring yard are living beings too. I observe the rooster in the chicken coop when he sits on the fence. He's much more important than the weather vane rooster, who, while perched high, can't even crow, let alone cock-a-doodle-doo. He has neither hens nor chicks, thinks only of himself, and even exudes a greenish tint. But our rooster, he's a real rooster! Just look at how he struts; it's almost a dance! And you can hear him everywhere. What a trumpet! Oh, if only he'd come over here, if he wanted to devour me whole, leaves and stem included, that would be a splendid death."

One night, a terrible storm arrived. The hen, with her chicks, and the rooster sought shelter. The gusts of wind brought down the fence between the two yards. Roof tiles fell, but the weather vane rooster remained securely perched, never turning, despite his young age. He was a freshly cast rooster but thoughtful and level-headed. He was born old. He wasn't like all those sky birds, the sparrows and swallows, which he scorned as "birds that chirp and are, furthermore, quite ordinary."

"Pigeons are big, shiny, and as iridescent as nacre. They even resemble weather vane roosters. But they're fat and foolish, thinking only of gorging themselves and are utterly dull," said the weather vane rooster.

Occasionally, migratory birds would visit him. They'd talk about far-off lands, flying in flocks, and share tales of bandits and their encounters with birds of prey. The first time, it was new and exciting, but later, the rooster realized they were repeating themselves, always telling the same stories. They bored him, everything bored him; he couldn't connect with anyone; everyone was uninteresting and tiresome.

"The world is worthless!" he declared. "None of this makes any sense!"

The weather vane rooster was, as they say, jaded. That's why he would have surely been a more interesting friend to the cucumber had he known. But the cucumber had eyes only for the coop rooster, who happened to be strutting over to him at that moment.

The fence lay on the ground, and the storm had passed.

"How did you like my crow?" the rooster asked the hens and chicks; it was slightly hoarse and lacked elegance.

The hens and chicks made their way over to the manure pile, and the rooster followed.

"Nature's masterpiece!" he exclaimed to the cucumber.

These few words convinced the cucumber that the rooster had manners, and he even forgot that the rooster was pecking and devouring him.

"What a splendid death!"

The hens flocked, the chicks flocked, and you know how it goes – as soon as one starts running, the others follow suit. The hens cackled, the chicks cheeped, and they all gazed at the rooster with admiration. They were proud; he was part of their family.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" he crowed. "The chicks will soon grow into splendid hens; I just need to tell the rest of the world's courtyard."

And the hens clucked, the chicks chirped.

The rooster announced the grand news.

"A rooster can lay an egg! Do you know what's inside such an egg? A basilisk! Nobody can withstand the gaze of a basilisk! Humans know it, and now you know it too, and now you know everything that's inside me! I'm a fine fellow; I'm the best rooster in all the world's courtyards!"

The rooster flapped his wings, shook his crest, and crowed. The hens and chicks got chills down their feathers.

They were quite proud to have such a fellow in the family, the best rooster in all the world's courtyards. The hens cackled, the chicks chirped, and they made sure the weather vane rooster could hear them. He did, but it didn't even make him budge.

"None of this makes any sense," thought the weather vane rooster. "I'll never lay an egg, and I don't even want to. If I wanted, I could lay a wind egg, a rotten egg, but the world isn't even worth it. It's all useless!... Now, I don't even feel like being perched up here!"

And the weather vane rooster detached himself from the roof. However, he didn't kill the coop rooster, even though "that's what he wanted," the hens asserted. And what lesson should we draw from this?

"It's better to crow than be jaded and broken!"