little Brown

plain peahens step aside as the peacocks strut into the barnyard they do a little mating dance, preening, showing off, being male if I had those beautiful feathers, I would be jazzier than any of them! The other peahens laugh at little brown, the youngest peahen. We all talked like that at one time, an older peahen told her. I used to beg father sky for some pretty feathers, but I did not get them. Little Brown was not dissuaded, she thought they had not tried hard enough.