The Egg Pire

By Zeaton Rooks

On an adventure that takes an egg named Eric through farms and meadows, he comes across some very odd substitute mothers. If he is to break free of his shell, he must do it soon. In the end, he finds courage and sets out on his own to hatch and become what he was destine to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zeaton Rooks
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310847820

Zeaton Rooks

Zeaton Rooks was born in 1964 in Roy, Utah. He now lives and works in Richardson Texas. Zeaton is a writer, graphic artist and a big fan of Dachshunds. Felix the mosquito Pire was the first Pires character created over thirty years ago in a middle-school art class. Now after development of over a hundred Pires and other characters, tales on their adventures are just beginning.Join the fun by following all the Pires characters on Facebook and at the official Pires website.

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The Egg Pire

A tale by Zeaton Rooks

Published by Zeaton Rooks

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2014 Zeaton Rooks

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book and all Pires characters remain the copyrighted property of Zeaton Rooks, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1: A Strange Nest

Chapter 2: Working for a Cause

Chapter 3: A Strange Bird

Chapter 4: Free-Range Chickens

Chapter 5: Paradise Lost

Chapter 6: The Chicken-Cat

Chapter 7: All Grown Up

Chapter 8: An Odd Duck

Chapter 9: Regret

Epilogue

About Zeaton Rooks

Connect with Pires

Chapter 1: A STRANGE NEST

Eric awoke cold and in a strange nest for the third time this week. Beatrice, a mother robin, did her best to cover Eric and the rest of her brood but a chicken egg was a bit too large to be in a robin's nest. At least it beat the time he spent with the hummingbirds. Fortunately, he was the only egg the hummingbirds had, for he hardly fit in their tiny nest. When their little bodies could not keep him warm, they eventually gave him up to a cooped chicken in desperate need to please the farmer.

Beatrice was skinny for a robin and looked pretty, with the reddish-orange feathers covering her chest, but she was not Eric's mother. At this point in his young life, he just hoped someone would care for him and possibly encourage him to reach for his dreams.

That morning, the dew began to drift onto the nest and the nearby leaves. The settling wetness and cool breeze that followed served only to chill Eric. Without enough heat, it was likely he would not hatch. He nuzzled underneath Beatrice, searching for warmth and bumped into Berry, one of two eggs left from Beatrice’s brood of four.

Watch it, or I’ll give you a crack on the head, Berry said.

Yeah…if you cross onto our side of the nest again, you’re likely to find yourself smashed on the ground, The other egg, Berry’s sister Carla, said. When she stuck her nose in the air, the three little speckles across her pale, blue face wrinkled into a pout.

Despite what you may be thinking about eggs, the hard shells are quiet flexible. When you’re not looking, special openings appear so they can use their hands and feet. Eric saw Berry’s hands appear and he yanked his mother’s downy feathers across him and his sister, leaving Eric with nothing but a small piece of yarn to keep him warm.

Cheep! Beatrice squawked as her feathers were jerked. What’s gotten into you kids…better learn to share or I’ll leave you all in the cold today.

She’s done it before, Berry said. He then reminded Eric of how Beatrice had left them uncovered nearly all day while she traded eggs with the hen. Thanks to you, we’re behind on our scheduled hatch date, he said angrily.

Why didn’t your father take his turn? Eric asked.

Our father is gone, Carla said and then she began to sob. The farmer’s grey tabby cat caught him in the barn.

Eric imagined Carla’s father was visiting Candy, the barn swallow when the cat got him. Candy had a reputation on the farm for rolling about in the hay. If he was visiting her instead of providing worms for the family, he probably deserved what he got.

Now look what you’ve done…you made Carla cry, Berry said. He stole away the orange yarn covering Eric and wrapped it around Carla.

If it’s any comfort, the rooster never took turns at times when my mother had to leave the nest, Eric said. Then again, we did have a heated coop and an electric nest.

It’s no comfort at all, Carla snapped. She rubbed her shell until the speckles turned reddish brown.

The early birds were up now. Eric listened as they chirped announcements after they caught the worms.

Oh look at this night crawler…it’s nearly as fat as a garden snake, a bird said. I can’t wait to chew him into tiny bits and feed him to my babies, the bird added.

This worm must be made of candy, it tastes so sweet… just look at the way it stretches like taffy while trying to hold onto the ground, another bird said.

Yuck. The thought of chewed worms was not Eric’s idea of a breakfast. He preferred the ground-up millet and seeds the farmer scattered in the henhouse.

It has always been a secret how un-hatched eggs eat while in the shell. Scientists will tell you they have food stored inside with them and that may be true. Not for Eric though. He has a secret opening where his beak pops out so he can eat. Most the eggs he knew had them as well.

Beatrice bounced out of the nest with a hop. She sorted odd pieces of string and loose feathers over Eric and her two blue eggs to keep them warm. I’ve got to fly before all the early birds leave nothing for us working mothers, she said before fluttering away.

After the robin left, it did not take long for Eric to realize the hen that had traded him for Beatrice’s eggs was likely in big trouble. By now, the farmer was certain to be increasing her food rations, not as a reward for laying the beautiful blue eggs, mind you, but to fatten her up for dinner. Eric had to warn her. Among the veteran chickens, it was well know the farmer never accepted replacements for perfect white eggs. Susie, the hen that had traded him was a new recruit to the egg production team. As the older hens always said, It’s better to let the farmer eat the dumb cluck than to put your own neck at risk. Still, Eric felt horrible. Susie was the closest thing to a true mother he had. She adopted him after the farmer's hunting dog took hold of his real mother, Eunice by the neck and gave her a shake. That day, she had attempted to get to a better place. A place she called the free range. His mother believed that’s where she would find chicken paradise. In his mind, he will never forget his mother’s final, gasping clucks. Get to the free range and become something other than a meal. Moments later, the dog picked her back up and trotted proudly away and she was gone forever.

Eric shook off the