Prompt for January 16: Four Lines of Prose about Chickens

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

They were all gathered neatly in the corner of the pen, right next to the trough where we put the food. Though there beady black eyes were shifting all around the pen, they continued to rest on Jim and me far too often for it to be random. They were cooking up a plan in those feathered heads of theirs.

And even though I had an inkling, the uprising the next day still took us all by surprise.

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