Rocky was a small baby monkey—barely able to climb trees yet, with big round eyes and soft fur that still clung to his baby features. He loved to follow the older monkeys, though he often fell behind. But that morning, something new caught his attention: the chicken coop.
It wasn’t unusual for Rocky to wander near the chickens, especially since he loved watching their clumsy flaps and funny clucks. But today, something was different. A loud screech suddenly tore through the peaceful air.
“Kaaaawwww!” came the sound, fierce and sharp.
Rocky froze.
From the coop, out burst a large, red-eyed rooster—feathers puffed up, wings flapping wildly, and beak snapping at the air as if it were defending its life. It had apparently gotten into a fight with another rooster and was now storming the yard in pure rage.
The moment Rocky laid eyes on the furious bird, his little body stiffened in fear. His bottom hit the ground, tail curled tightly between his legs, and his eyes widened with sheer panic. The flapping wings and aggressive sounds were nothing like the calm clucking he was used to.
The rooster charged forward, not directly at Rocky, but close enough for the baby monkey to think he was the target. Rocky let out a tiny squeal and scrambled backward, tripping over his own feet. He darted behind a large clay water pot and crouched there, hugging himself and peeking cautiously from the side.
Meanwhile, the rooster continued its wild strut through the yard, chasing away chickens, flinging dust into the air, and terrifying nearly every smaller animal nearby.
Rocky, still hiding, looked around to see if anyone would help. That’s when an older monkey named Dara came into view. Dara was one of the calmest and most protective monkeys in the troop. She spotted Rocky cowering and immediately leapt down from a tree branch, positioning herself between Rocky and the angry rooster.
With a loud bark and a strong presence, Dara puffed up her chest and stared down the rooster. The rooster paused for a moment, assessing its new opponent. Then, as if realizing it had met its match, it turned and strutted back toward the coop—still angry, but slightly less wild.
Rocky slowly came out from behind the pot, trembling but safe. Dara reached out and gently touched his back, giving him a reassuring pat. It was the monkey way of saying, “You’re okay now.”
That afternoon, Rocky didn’t wander far from the others. He clung to Dara’s side and kept a wary eye on the chicken area. While the scare had shaken him, it had also taught him a small lesson about the unpredictable world he was growing up in.
And though he was still young and nervous, something in Rocky’s eyes showed that he had grown a little braver that day—thanks to the rooster, and thanks to Dara.
