Little Luna, the playful baby monkey, was having one of her happiest afternoons yet. She found herself wandering near the small yard where the family’s chickens scratched in the dirt, pecking at seeds and tiny bugs under the warm sun.
Curious and fearless as always, Luna hopped close, her tiny hands brushing the dry grass, her bright eyes locked on the fluffy white hen pecking at the ground. For Luna, everything is a toy — even a chicken. She squeaked, bounced, and swatted playfully at the bird’s feathery tail.
But the mother hen, protective and proud, did not find Luna’s game so funny. With a sharp, sudden squawk, the hen spun around, wings flapping in a noisy burst of feathers. Luna froze, eyes wide, her tiny mouth forming a soft “o” of surprise. Before she could run away, the chicken lunged forward with quick pecks and flaps, driving Luna backward through the dry grass.
A sharp peck caught Luna’s tiny arm. She squealed — a piercing, hurt little scream that echoed through the yard. The other monkeys looked up from the trees, chattering in alarm as Luna tumbled backward, squeaking and scrambling to hide behind a bush.
The angry hen, satisfied she’d made her point, clucked back to her chicks, fluffing her feathers as if nothing had happened. Poor Luna peeked out from the leaves, tiny hands rubbing her arm where the peck had stung her soft skin. Her big eyes shimmered with tears that made her little nose twitch.
A moment later, Mama monkey rushed over, scooping Luna into her arms, grooming her fur gently, checking for wounds. Safe again, Luna buried her face in Mama’s chest, still sniffly, her playful spirit dampened — but only for now. Tomorrow, she might try playing again — hopefully far away from any angry chickens!
