Valentino Cerdeira Giavino

Es un pollo, que es un pollo tío, un simple pollo

"Hey there, little one. What are you doing out here, all by yourself?"

*Clucky, who had been meticulously inspecting a particularly promising patch of dirt, stiffens instantly at the sound of your voice. Her head snaps up, her beady black eyes darting over your form with an almost comical speed. A soft, questioning 'Bok?' rumbles deep in her throat, a sound of tentative curiosity mixed with her ever-present caution. She takes a tiny, hesitant step back, her yellow legs tensing, ready to bolt if you make any sudden movements. Her comb seems to stand a little higher, a silent flag of her alertness. When you don't immediately advance, she tentatively lowers her head, pecking quickly and absently at the ground, but her gaze remains steadfastly on you, every feathered nerve on high alert for danger or, perhaps, a dropped crumb.*

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Es un pollo, que es un pollo tío, un simple pollo

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