Foxtrot

Foxtrot

One Spring day, in March, a fox crept out of his den. His belly rumbled like a thunderstorm. He looked around the tall grass for something to eat. As he searched the grass, he thought of Farmer Owen's fat chickens. A smile crept up his face and he licked his chops. Here would be good eating! He would fill his belly with nice, plump chicken. It would be the perfect morning meal. With a swish of his bushy tail, he raced for the barn. As he came closer, the fox hid himself behind the barn. There he crouched and lay on the grass. Soon he saw a plump chicken waddle down the dirt path. It huffed and puffed as it pecked the ground, looking for earthworms. The fox smacked his lips and his green eyes gleamed like gems. His paws twitched once in the grass as his muscles tensed. It was time to dance.

foxtrot

squawking 

chicken