A three legged coyote lived out beyond the chicken house. You'd see him any morning if you got up early enough, as he made his lop-sided way across the field in the first morning light. He had one dream, one ambition. To catch and eat a chicken from the shed that overlooked the field.
The chickens in the shed were well disciplined. They lived orderly lives. But one of their number allowed herself to dream of a life beyond the well lit security of her home. She dreamed of freedom.
During the day the chickens ranged their wired in enclosure. The dreamer stood at the end of the run and look out at the field, the woods, the road with cars and trucks passing. Children shouting at their games. Feathers ruffling in the summer wind, she gazed poignantly out at the lovely world. Then she experienced a strong desire to lay an egg and she went back to her box to attend to business.
One night a hungry drifter broke into the chicken house in search of eggs. There were none. They had been collected when the chickens were shut in for the night. The drifter thought about catching a chicken, killing it, dressing it out, plucking it and eating it. He thought about his grandmother who did this very thing every Sunday of her life, but for him it was too much trouble. He slipped away into the night, leaving the door and gate ajar. The chicken dreamer saw her chance. In an instant she was gone. She was no fool. First thing she did was to flutter into the branches of a young Douglas fir where she could collect her thoughts. The coyote drifted by below her in the early morning. He had been dining on a half eaten burrito. The smell of live chicken made him drool, but he didn't sense any difference in its intensity. The chicken was happy at first. She wondered at will along the borders of the woods. She lived on young grass and seeds and kitchen scraps from compost heaps. She didn't know it, but once she ate a fragment of fried chicken wing - a distant Ozark chicken. No relation. The coyote knew she was there. So did the local dogs. The chicken dreamer was hunted all day, all night. She became harried and dejected. She longed for the security of the chicken house. One sad day as she scrabbled frantically at the gate to the chicken run she was surprised and eaten by a shepherd mix named Max. Max didn't leave much. The coyote sniffed disconsolately at the remains of the chicken. He chewed on a couple of feathers.
``If I'd had four legs,'' he thought, ``I would have caught this chicken and eaten it hot and fresh. That mangey dog wouldn't have had a chance.''
Sadly he abandoned his dream and slipped away to sniff out mice.