Calendar Clucks

It was after hours at the TV studio. Fox and his friends were playing poker.

"Call!" Crow said eyeing the pot full of clams.

"Royal flush," Rat boasted laying down his hand.

Crow wrinkled his beak and threw down his cards.

"Beats me," Duck grumbled. He watched his clams vanish from the table. Crows eyes noticed the headline from the recent issue of Fence: The Journal of Clams and Shells. "All we need is a half million clams Fox and a few off shore investments sets us up for life."

"Half a mill!" Duck raised his beak. "That's a lot."

"Whatcha got in mind," Fox asked passing the deal over to Crow.

"Says here steamy feather salons are big in the crab islands. Totally off shore too with no interference from the do-gooders."

Just then Big Brown Hen, Fox's chief camera person came into the office. "Here's this week's ratings, chief," she clucked holding a raft of official looking papers out papers out to Fox. She looked at him adoringly.

"Leave um on the desk," Fox said paying her little attention, his eyes on a pair of aces ten high.

She bustled over to his desk, momentarily tidied some papers, smiled and left.

"That hen's only got eyes for you," Crow said frowning at a totally worthless hand.

"My key to the henhouse," Fox preened. "Best to be loved by the fair and the foul."

"You know clucks her size are very popular these days," Crow began. "Something about all those feathers!."

Whatcha talking about Crow," Fox asked not missing a beat in the conversation.

"And she's sweet on ya too,' Duck chuckled. "Just suppose you could get Ms Hen and her flock to agree to pose for a calendar. Hefty clucks who show all sell big with or without their eggs."

"Too risky Fox admonished. "Too much decency these days to go quilty let alone reveal any sort of downy feathers."

"Not if it's for charity and the cause is right," Rat chimed in. "Just suppose you produced a calendar with all proceeds for charity. Something for instance like Mad Hen disease. And you banked all the clams offshore where there's no taxes whatsoever.

"I don't know," Fox mused. "The idea isn't bad but for something risky like that you need a front. Someone to take the heat from all the do-gooders insisting on clean set of books and genuine explanations."

"Just a one time deal," Rat snickered as he studied his hand. "But yes, you need someone who's got moxie on his drumstick."

"You think a calendar like that would sell?" Fox asked Crow, his voice softening.

"Absolutely!" Crow replied.

"Fox said felt a flush of excitement mingle with his impatience for a genuine get rich quick scheme.

"And Ms. Hen could line up all the pullets, and like you said they'd reveal the secrets of the henhouse, one a month. Be very exclusive!" Fox thought aloud. "But we need a front. Someone who's got class and charm and a way with words to convince the liberals and conservatives alike that everything's Jake."

"Fold" Duck said. He saw his last few clams swept into Rat's hoard. "I'm off to the pond," he yawned. " Tomorrow me and Owl are meeting for an early breakfast.."

"Yes! Fox clapped his paws, his eyes brightening. Of course! Owl! Who's charm and well wishing are best for our dishing."

"Loved and trusted by all," Crow smirked.

"I think its time I took Owl to lunch," Fox said sagaciously. "And maybe if I'm lucky I can even get him to pick up the check." (To be continued)

"So good to see you again Owl," Fox beamed as they sipped watercress spritzers at Stork's Tavern on the Green.

"Yes!" Owl was exuberance. It wasn't everyday that a media mogul of Fox's worth

Fox woofed down his spritzer, waved for another and eyeballed Owl. "We've a dreadful crisis at hand! But the less said of it the better! Devastating!" He wiped away an imaginary tear from his eye.

"Really," Owl replied. "I hope something's being done."

"Research is so pricey," Fox sighed. "And these days there's hardly an extra clam in anyone's budget to fight Mad Hen Disease!"

"You'd know such things," Owl said wisely.

"Within months it could exterminate the inhabitants of the entire meadow." Owl shivered. "Mad Hen Disease? I've not heard a word about it." "Dreadful," Fox hung his head. "We lose the power of our minds. Our thoughts reduced to incoherent babble. Our brains simply melt and ooze green slime." Owl clutched his head. "That's dreadful! I had no idea."

‘Very hush-hush!" Fox cautioned. "No need to cause panic in the barnyards."

"Surely some humanitarian effort is at hand?" Owl swallowed the intensity of the moment."

"That's why we're here," Fox whispered. "Confidentially there is a bold, daring plan afoot to help raise the necessary funds for research so this disease of unparallel mass destruction can be stamped out once and for all. But!" His voice leapt an octave. "It requires the utmost tact and delicacy."

"Of course! "Owl agreed.

"Quite simply those dedicated clucks at the henhouse have consented to allow us to photograph them and create a calendar as they do their…" Fox paused to think. "Their morning calisthenics clad in their most basic uniformity."

"Fox waved to the waitress for refills. Owl's head already had begun to swim. "I never realized the potency of fermented watercress," he burped. "Of course I'll help in any way you feel best." Fox preened. "My thought was that you'd be our Ambassador of Good Will. No payment. You'd be responsible for your expenses. Your task simply would be to meet with leaders, dignitaries to speak with them about the natural beauty and vitality of our calendar." Owl nodded. "Must be tremendous competition in the calendar trade."

"Oh it will sell!" Fox assured him. Each month several of the more endowed clucks will reveal all, Very open and au natural."

"These are conservative times," Owl mused, "There could be opposition, misgivings and misunderstanding. ."

"That's where you come in!" Fox snapped. "Your voice of tranquility and reason will calm such waters before they become tidal waves. But not a word about Mad Hen! Instead speak of naturalism and liberal education for all.".

"Of course," Owl slurred. The watercress had taken its effect.

"Fox looked at his pocket sundial. "I must be off!" To Owl he sounded just the way a major media mogul might sound with crisis but moments away. He reached into his purse and frowned. "I'm so sorry Owl but in my haste to meet with you I forgot to add a few clams to the old exchequer."

"Never fear!" Owl burped generously. "Let this be on me. Why it's the least I can do."

"Thank you, Owl." Fox rose and wrapped his paws around Owl's wings. "History awaits he who dares!" As he shelled out his clams for the drinks, Fox's words resonated in Owl's head.

Inside Fox's television studio on a makeshift henhouse set, Crow and Duck had been conducting photo shoots. For several days they had taken candids of the unsuspecting hens and pullets Brown Hen had recruited for the Cluck's Calendar project. "Lift that wing just a tiny bit higher," Crow called out to the large hen that sat atop a throne of fluffy feathers.

"Don't be shy now! This is for charity, after all." Duck concurred, holding a digital camera. He handed her another watercress stinger on the rocks.

She fluttered her beak and took several ladylike sips. "I had no idea you'd suggest such unnatural poses," she clucked, curious as to the necessity for the odd postures she had been asked to assume. "Why if anyone at church, most especially Mother Fowl or Reverend Dr. Gander ever saw me that way!" She swayed.

"It's a new century!" Crow smiled around the cigar butt jammed into the side of his beak. He refilled her glass yet again

"Don't worry about church," Duck assured her. "There'll be pie in sky." He hummed.

Dutifully she sipped at her stinger. Then although somewhat reluctant, she obediently followed Crow's instructions and spread her wings far higher and wider than usual. "This is positively naughty," she clucked. "Mother Fowl would call these sorts of poses scandalous."

"A hen of beauty is a joy forever," Crow smiled.

"I feel terribly exposed!" She clucked.

"Tell us about your whirlwind romances with those Rhode Island Reds you used to fly about with," Duck surreptitiously turned on his pocket recorder. "Not to be shy now. This is after all educational and most especially for charity." He emphasized the word charity and gave it as solemn a tone as possible.

"You want me to tell about my time with the Rhode Island Reds?" She took another sip of her stinger, blushed, hiccupped several times, smiled and chuckled. "Some memories are best left untold."

"Not anymore!" Crow assured her as he refilled her glass. " Today barnyard confessions top all other TV ratings. Viewers want to see it all in the raw, hear every morsel of truth! How we break all the rules, then find redemption and get reborn again and again and again until we're so totally reborn we get elected to high public office."

After that we're all home free and whatever we did in the past doesn't matter," Duck chimed in. "By then it's just old news."

"Besides keeping it all pent up can cause Drowsy Beak." Crow said.

"My beak isn't drowsy," she exclaimed. Then she gulped down the rest of the potent watercress cocktail.

Followed by Brown Hen and a flock of tipsy, happily enthusiastic pullets, Fox bustled into the studio. "Time for the kick line!" He consulted an official looking schedule affixed to his clipboard. "Ok you feathery morsels of delectable pulchritudinous pastry, line up over by Brown Hen's camera and let's get some group shots of you all in a kick line! Just pretend it's Saturday night and you're letting it all hang out."

"Tell me I don't have Drowsy Beak." The large hen begged of Duck , as she waddled over to join the others.

"It's ok!" Duck grinned. He reached into his pocket and turned off the tape recorder. "Whatever you tell me, my beak is sealed." (To be continued)

Upon hearing that church leaders had threatened an investigation into Calendar Clucks activities Fox dispatched Owl to St. Wisteria in hopes of calming the waters.

In the parlor of the church rectory he was joined by the pastor, Reverend Doctor Gander; RE and Choir Director, Sister Pullet; and Congregational Chair, Mother Fowl.

"I'm surprised that an Owl of your character and literary reference should associate with a reprobate like Fox." Mother Fowl did not mince her words. She looked directly at Owl. "Something must be done immediately to put an end to this calendar chicanery."

"But it is good nonetheless to see you here at St. Wisteria," Rev. Dr. Gander smiled benignly at Owl. "I was most impressed by your recent linguistic jottings on the personal pronouns and adverbs of Camel."

Owl nodded politely. "I feel it only fair to tell you that Fox is performing a most admirable humanitarian gesture taking on the responsibility for this calendar. Why I have it on good authority that every clam collected goes directly toward medical research."

"Hogwash!" Mother Fowl frowned. Her aged beak twisted in gyrating contortions. .

"Begging your pardon dear Mother Fowl," Owl persisted, "but there is a clear and present danger afoot: a plague of such considerable mass destruction and consequence that it can only be halted by exceedingly costly medical research. Fox is talking it upon himself."

"Plague!" Sister Pullet smiled graciously at Owl. "I've not read of any plague."

"Oh yes!" Owl assured her, his eyes wide, his voice solemn.

"You must understand Owl that from the way the hens and pullets are conversing at choir practice this calendar poses a terrible embarrassment to us here at church." Dr. Gander starred off into space. "There must be no distractions during this years special paschal visit by the renowned evangelist, Goosalicious.

"Dr Gander let me reassure you that Fox takes all of our best interests to heart."

"Hogwash," Mother Fowl shook. "Perhaps I'm wrong about you Owl." She said menacingly.

"Did Fox go into any details about this plague?" Sister Pullet asked, blinking her soft brown eyes in Owl's direction.

Owl felt perplexed. Surely the intelligence gathered by a shrewd media mogul like Fox had to be accurate. "I have it on good authority from Fox himself that very soon this mass destruction will blanket our meadow and ultimately turn our minds to absolute mush," he blurted. "This is why he's taken to fund raising!"

"By selling a lewd and salacious calendar that exploits the finest poultry of our congregation. I think not, Owl!" Mother Fowl raised her feathers. " And furthermore I fear you are deceiving us!"

"And may I ask just what is so special and significant about some evangelist coming for Easter?" Owl was beginning to feel a trifle riled and indignant himself.

Rev. Dr. Gander fidgeted with his spectacles. "This child who is coming is the most gifted great-great granddaughter of Mother Goose and the Old Gray Gander." He beamed. "And it is said that her gift for laying golden eggs at the full moon is an absolute miracle to behold."

"Really! Golden eggs!" Owl seemed impressed. "Perhaps a special interviews on Fox's television station would be appropriate."

"Never!" Mother Fowl screeched. "I don't want that reprobate anywhere near her. "This is a spiritual gathering, Owl! And I must say that I haven't seen you here in church recently, let alone that dastardly Fox you seem so concerned for!" (To be continued)

The Easter Morning service at St Wisteria's was packed with parishioners and curiosity seekers all waiting for the celebrated Gooselicious to make her first appearance in the Meadow. Mother Fowl was surprised when she noticed Fox, Crow, Rat and Duck sitting together at the back of the packed congregation. Owl too was present seated closer to the pulpit and looking especially scholarly in his new dark green Edwardian waistcoat and gold wire rim spectacles. The choir began the service with a rousing rendition of the old barnyard hymn, Sheep in the Meadow, Cows in the Corn.

"Why d'ya ditch the calendar?" Duck asked Fox in a hoarse whisper.

"Bigger clams to fry," Fox smiled. "Sent proofs off to Heifer Magazine. Heif pays top clams for lurid photo spreads."

"Dearly beloved," Rev. Dr Gander beamed at the Congregation. "We are so fortunate to have with us today the incomparable evangelist Goosilicious who is on her way to the holy land in hopes of facilitating world peace."

A hush fluttered throughout the congregation as a white goose of incredibly magnetic pulchritude waddled to the pulpit. "Really!" Fox beamed and licked his lips. "I'll bet she's a tasty morsel."

"All 24 k worth! "Crow grinned.

Her classic beauty especially impressed Owl by choice a confirmed bachelor and not usually taken by the fair sex. Seeing her so close by had caused his gold-framed spectacles to fog up which seemed to him a sign of kismet.

Gooselicious beamed. She noticed Owl and felt a flutter in her heart. Her smile widened and was especially sweet and radiant. " Dear children of the faith," she began in earnest, "So many of you have inquired as to the origin of my divine gift for laying golden eggs. Little can I tell you except to say that when the moon is full as it is now, through divine providence I enter a dream like trance that results in this natural wonder. There is no other explanation for this blessing."

"Such modesty," thought Owl entranced by her every word.

"A veritable gold mine," whispered Fox softly rubbing his paws together, barely able to conceal his excitement. Rev. Dr. Gander placed an ancient sterling silver basket under her. She settled her downy self upon it; half closed her eyes, blushed, and began to sway back and forth. Minutes later she cooed gently and then came the sound of a definite clink, which no doubt awakened the faith of all in attendance, even the most resolute doubters. "Ahhh!" She quivered, sighed and then whispered. "Let it be!" As though on cue Sister Pullet struck several loud chords on the ancient pipe organ and another rousing chorus of "Sheep in the Meadow Cows in the Corn," vibrated to everyone's delight throughout the great stone hall. Then Rev. Dr. Gander removed the silver basket from beneath her downy being and helped a weary Gooselicious to the large hand carved purple throne chair to the side of the pulpit. Once she was comfortably seated, with tremendous anticipation Rev. Dr. Gander reached into the antique silver basket and drew forth a large solid gold egg. He held it up to the amazed congregation. "Surely a miracle for us all to behold," he said, his voice hushed and reverent.

"Imagine scrambling up a few of those for breakfast," Crow whispered to Fox, who could hardly believe his eyes. (To be continued)

In St Wisteria's Meeting Hall after Easter service Rev. Dr. Gander clutched the silver basket containing the golden egg Gooselicious had so generously donated to the church. Tears filled his eyes. "Such a treasure," was all he kept saying.

Fox pushed and elbowed his way closer to Gooselicious until he was outflanked by Mother Fowl. Resolutely, her wings folded she eyed Fox. "She's unavailable to the media," she said firmly

"Why Mother Fowl! Dear dear Mother Fowl, the bastion of our spiritual community," Fox began. "How incredibly wonderful to see you."

"What is it Fox?" She asked tersely, having none of his flattery.

"Fox pursed his lips and noticed that Gooselicious was engaged in what seemed a rather intimate conversation with Owl. "I have thought for so long what a fine television hostess you'd be." He smiled. "With your own show of course. Such credibility and honor deserves recognition."

"I'll not be party to your pranks," she frowned. "Especially that plague of mass destruction story you've gone and convinced poor Owl is inevitable."

Fox began to quiver as only Fox could quiver, " Already over in Up-Zee-Kreek," he sighed, " there are dreadful circumstances." His head and tail shook simultaneously. "Medicine! So expensive! But dear Mother Fowl on such an auspicious day as this let us not cast our eyes upon the sorrow." He put his paw to his forehead. "Yes, I see ratings off the chart. Oh the endorsements, Mother Fowl brand sanitary comfort products for every henhouse across the meadow. You have no idea …." His voice trailed off.

"You truly want me for television?" she sounded absolutely flabbergasted.

"Who better than you my dear Mother Fowl!" Fox proclaimed as Crow and Duck moved a little closer. "Who better than our own felicitous Mother Fowl, the absolute authority on anything whatsoever authoritative to set our moral tone." Crow and Duck nodded in full agreement.

"Attention everyone!" A breathless Gooselicious called as she tinkled a demitasse spoon against a small glass teacup. "Both Owl and Sister Pullet have agreed to accompany me on my upcoming golden egg crusade to the Holy Land, where so many are in such desperate need of compassionate, sympathy and understanding."

"Here here!" Ducked called out, clapping his wings. "Let's hear it for Owl. "Our old boy Owl who understands even if something isn't understandable to the rest of us." A series of cheers went up throughout the crowd.

"And let's hear it for Sister Pullet," Crow said heartily, "who know how to bang out a tune on anybody's old organ." Another great cry of approval filled the room.

"I suppose I could give television a try," Mother Fowl said, her usual reservation and apprehension around Fox taking a back seat to her latent lifelong yearning for show biz."

"Yes!" Fox beamed. "And for your first program perhaps an in depth encounter with Gooselicious prior to her departure on this crusade of hers." He turned to Crow. "Something strapless with a certainty of plunge to show is off that fine plumage."

"Oh my!" she cooed. "Television! Why I'll have to have my feathers waxed," she blushed.

"Crow will handle the details," Fox beamed as he ever so gently patted Mother Fowl's mighty rumple of feathery pulchritude. He slipped past her and joined Owl, Sister Pullet and Gooselicious. "Tell me my dear," he gleamed. "Where do you store all those golden eggs of yours?" (To be continued)

As he read Hef's e-mail back at the TV studio after Sunday's Easter Service at St. Wisteria's, Fox clenched his paws. "Fox Old Friend, Chicken every Sunday might work for the "tepid tooths" but where's the beef? Sorry but there's no market for your explicit feather spread pics.. Our readers want their fillets petit and served rare on pointy wedges of crispy toast. Keep in touch! Your pal, Hef." Fox sneered as only Fox could sneer. He looked over at Crow who was lighting up the butt end of his stogie. "So much for that! Any other brilliant ideas to skyrocket our ratings, keep us out of the hoosegow and put a few extra clams in the old exchequer?"

"You could always plant a bug on Owl and Gooselicious, wire them for sound," Crow grinned. "Talk about reality TV to keep henhouse viewers up late. Or maybe a Randy Rooster Road Race! They always have a springtime zing to them."

"With our luck he'd probably read her poetry all night from some ancient Camel sage. Then in the morning discuss the virtues of Aesop."

"Too bad the majority of viewers want their eggs so raw these days." Crow flexed his beak. "But all isn't lost. "You've got Mother Fowl, and as you said, she's a natural for big clam endorsements from the monogrammed toilet tissue crowd."

"She's all yours," Fox said as he rummaged through the stacks of correspondence and papers that could only clutter the desk of such an important media mogul as Fox. Meanwhile across the meadow at the Tavern on the Green, Gooselicious, Owl and Sister Pullet were enjoying tea sandwiches and the Tavern's always popular watercress spritzers.

"Oh Owly darlin'," Gooselicious drawled, " I so appreciate your offer to share your nest with us before we depart upon our crusade to the Holy Land." She blinked her feathery baby blues in Owl's direction.

"Us?" He asked a touch of bewilderment crept in his voice.

"Why Owly dear, it's only appropriate that Sister Pullet join us in the capacity of chaperone." Her words had a sense of absolute finality to them.

"Chaperone?" Owl didn't quite understand. Sister Pullet squirmed and beamed at Gooselicious. She had paid hardly any attention to him since they all left church together.

"And as you've said it's your nature to fly about the countryside at night, so it only makes sense to give us your bed!"

"Give you my bed? My wonderful bed!"

Sister Pullet blushed. Her wing softly brushed against Gooselicious's feathery mane.

"Well good heavens where else would you expect us to sleep? She asked." Owl noticed that when she wanted to be so, Gooselicious could become very businesslike in a hurry.

"But where will I sleep?" He asked plaintively. .

"Why in that comfortable chair of yours in your library." Gooselicious said very matter of factly. "After all everyone knows that Owls sleep sitting up. You don't really even really need a bed at all. It's just some old habit you picked up along the way."

"They do? I don't?" He blinked and tried to better focus his eyes, but the fermented watercress seemed to propel him into a vague dream-like state of mind. And then in a moment of supreme clarity Owl realized that his entire life was about to change.

The End--For Now