The Little Red Hen - A Story of Discipline

Retold by Saul Herbert

It is likely that you are familiar with the story of the Little Red Hen. This story has more variations than Spider Man has movies. But this one is sharply abbreviated, and slanted toward a more mature audience. Be sure to catch the lesson at the end. 

The Little Red Hen, or Red, as she was called around the farm, had been raised from the time she was a little yellow chick to understand the value of hard work. Her feet bore the callouses and scars of one who worked the land, and the lines at the sides of her eyes were constant reminders of her age and the many late nights and early mornings spent toiling while others slept. 

It may have been early in the spring, but her thoughts were already of the first frost of winter and the long nights that would return with it. The last one had taken the farmer, who at his wish was now buried between the two grain silos, and now the barnyard animals were left to fend for themselves. Because of this, she welcomed the rising sun by beating it to the soil, and worked at sowing wheat, all day, every day, as she would for the better part of a month.

One morning, as she strolled stiffly toward the field, she passed the dog sitting vigilantly on the porch steps. She had always admired his poise, dignity, and the intimidating glint of his long, white teeth. He was an image of success, at the pinnacle of his purpose, guarding the farmhouse door from any would-be trespassers.

“Dog,” she called, “you are so diligent in your duties, and do them so well.” 

The dog’s eyes moved to her, but his rigid posture didn’t move an inch. Such poise!  She thought to herself.

“Would you be willing to help me for a day or few? There’s a plot of land right next to you.”

She pointed to a corner of the field only a few paces from where she spoke, “Here you can help the most while still keeping an eye upon your post.”

The dog’s eyes rolled stoically back to attention, fixed on some unseen object far off on the horizon. His voice came low and guttural, as if rarely used. 

“No, Red,” he said, “You know that my job is to guard this door, this and nothing more. I would never abandon this spot right here, this is where I’m needed, eye and ear.”

“Very well, Dog,” Red said with a sigh, “Your help is always welcome, if you care to try.”

But he didn’t. And weeks went by.

The mornings were coming earlier now, and spring was making way for summer. Red had sown every grain of wheat in the first silo, placed her irrigation, and was now preparing the second field. She had emptied about half of the second silo, and was on her way to replenish her seed sack when she was stopped abruptly by Pig, who wielded a pitch fork quite menacingly.

“You stop right there,” Pig commanded, his nasally voice emitting between two sharp tusks that were mounted under beady, black eyes. “I know you’re planting, but I don’t care.”

“Pig,” said Red, “instead of stopping, please lend a hand; it’s hard to upkeep all this land!”

Pig snorted derisively. “All you do is take the wheat. What’s left is all for me to eat.”

Red shuddered at his angry tone, and left Pig wallowing all alone.

Summer brought with it the killing sun, and rain was rare and light when it fell. Red moved her sprinklers from one end of the fields to the other every day to keep the wheat from withering. There were locusts, lightning, weeds, dust storms, and very little rest to be had.

One day while headed out to move the sprinkler pipes, Red passed Cat, who was poised to pounce on an unsuspecting rodent near the fence. Red waited politely while Cat gracefully leapt forward, scooped the little gray mouse up, and swallowed it in one graceful, lady-like gulp.

Cat delicately dabbed her lips and turned toward Red with a welcoming smile. Red had always been entranced by Cat’s beauty and charisma. Her almond-shaped eyes glowed especially emerald green in the early morning sun, and Red couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

“Good morning, Red!” she purred sincerely, “Where have you been, I’ve missed you dearly!”

Red smiled back, feeling very self-conscious, and managed to say, “My workload’s obnoxious!”

Cat, in her alluring way, leaped up on a roll of hay. “Perhaps I can help, my day’s rather free, where can you find the right job for me?”

Red was astounded and said without doubt, “The main thing to do is battle the drought. We start at the gate in the creek to the west-“

From what Cat heard, she wasn’t impressed.  She had never liked water, and there was so much else she could do, so with a cock of her head she bid Red “Adieu.”

Red watched Cat float away between the fresh stalks of wheat, off on another adventure. Red felt a little envy at Cat’s freedom, but there was work to be done, and clearly nobody else to do it.

And so it was, Red worked the land; saving the bulk of the crop from the dog days of summer until an early fall set in with rains to spare. Then the days grew shorter and the harvest time came, and Red worked alone.

Pig had passed away mid-summer, having gorged too heavily on his coveted dry wheat. His selfish excess disappeared into the land with the dust of his bones, and that meant Red could return to the silos. She filled them to overflowing, and had to build two more to hold the fruits of her labor. Rooster’s Crown Contracting did the work, which is how she met Roy, who would eventually become her loving and devoted husband. 

Roy helped Red build a mechanical processing line that crushed the wheat into flour and fueled her ovens with the tailings. This innovation made good use of the plentiful harvest, and allowed her the chance to pursue her passion for baking.

She tried to share her best bread recipe with Dog, but he had wasted away on the porch and was now hunched permanently unmoving in front of a door that blew open with the cold Northern November gusts of wind. He had done his job exceedingly well, but his lack of vision reduced him from a symbol of strength to a decaying welcome mat.

Red welcomed the first big snow huddled in her cozy cottage, filled with the smell of freshly baked treats and soup simmering on the stove. One morning a letter arrived from Cat. She had moved from farm to farm, but never found happiness, and hoped to be back someday but could make no promises. Red wished Cat was there to share the warmth of the cottage with her, and did not envy Cat’s constant changes of scenery that did nothing to better her life in the long run, only in the moment.

With each passing year, Red’s hard work and ability to do today what is needed to prepare for tomorrow paved the way for better and better things, and through many seasons that filled many years she found love, built a family, expanded the cottage several times; and because she raised her children from the time they were little yellow chicks to understand the value of hard work, her family carried on the farm tradition.

And there was always love, laughter, and lots of warm bread in the cottage that vision and discipline built for Red.

The Moral of the Story:

Decide what’s important to you, do what you know is right, put in the work, stay the course, and reap the rewards.

Not every day is easy. In fact, almost none of them are. But Red knew that, and was prepared to work hard to build a foundation for what she knew would not just take care of her in the short-term, but what would set the stage for the life she believed she deserved.

Dog knew his job and was really good at it, but when he was asked to stretch and grow and diversify his skill set, he settled into the comfort of familiarity. His tunnel-vision and static approach to life left him cold, and in the end his job was worthless anyway; times had changed.

Pig was deeply selfish, and seeing an opportunity to net massive personal short-term gain did everything necessary to take care of himself without a sustainable plan for what to do when resources would, inevitably, shift out of his favor. Easy come, easy go; and he became just another statistic.

Cat couldn’t form a vision, and without vision she flitted from one place to another; exiting the scene any time adversity or undesirable circumstance came her way. She had everything going for her, but never found a course to plot long enough to get a leg up in life.

My point in sharing this is simple:

Don’t be afraid to change and grow. Nothing ever stays the same, and neither should you. What you are good at today might be obsolete tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you are. Nobody is really only good at one thing, unless that’s what they choose to be.

Build a network. No matter how good it looks or tempting it might be to rack up personal gain at the expense of others, the key to success lies in the relationships we build. Yes, it is often more WHO you know than WHAT you know; so embrace it, and surround yourself with others who challenge and refine you to be a better version of yourself every day.

Decide what matters to you, and then go after it without shame. It is easy to be distracted by what may appear to be greener pastures, and it is tempting to turn away from challenges that seem too much to undertake; but think about the way it will feel looking back. Will you grow more from grinding through and facing the challenge head-on, no matter the outcome; or will you avoid the risk of scars in favor of the easy road… which tends to wind in a thousand different directions and stretch on for miles without getting you anywhere.

And above all, work hard. But not just for the sake of working hard, there is no honor in a blind grind. Work hard in a way that brings you closer to the vision you have for your life. Know that everyone needs to put in their time and prove their value to reach something worth having in life, something that can’t be taken away in a moment.

And realize that work is worthless if it won’t get you a full, complete life. Work just as hard to build the life you want as you do to prove yourself on the job. Make the people, places, and causes that complete you just as high a priority as the task list at work. And focus on each of them at the right time, and in the right amount, so that one won’t cost you the chance to enjoy the other.

I wish I could say I was a master at this; but just like you, I’m muddling through and doing the best I can. But there’s something satisfying about putting it all down in writing. Maybe give it a try yourself.

Thanks, Red, for reminding me who I am working hard to be.