It was a warm, sunny day, the kind where the lake shimmered like glass and the breeze carried the smell of wildflowers.
On a big, flat rock near the water’s edge sat a chubby white-haired little baby, busy exploring the world in their own fearless way.
From the nearby grass, a rooster strutted into view.
Bright red comb standing tall, feathers gleaming in the sun, he eyed the baby with the suspicious authority only roosters possess.
The baby giggled and waved their tiny hands. The rooster took that as… a challenge.
With a sudden flap, the rooster hopped onto the rock, and the standoff began.
The baby babbled something unintelligible but clearly defiant.
The rooster crowed loudly in response.
A poke from the baby’s little finger met a peck from the rooster’s beak.
Tiny hands grabbed at tail feathers; flapping wings pushed them back.
The baby squealed; the rooster clucked furiously.
Round after round, they engaged in their strange, comical duel—neither side giving up an inch.
The lake shimmered quietly behind them, as if amused by this bizarre rivalry.
Eventually, the fight just… continued until the sun began to dip a little lower.
No victor emerged. No peace treaty was signed.
It was simply baby versus rooster—an eternal feud paused only by nap time and dinner.