My kind of hen

She was the odd one in the chicken farm, smaller, with messy head feathers, and always going her own ways. “She just won’t fit in,” the others complained. Their negative attitude towards her began to change the day she jumped on the fence and crowed, not exactly like an early morning rooster, but with her own distinctive voice. Comfort zones were shaken.

 
WordPress Daily Prompts: Underdog, Messy