Ryaba the Speckled Hen
A Tale of Simple Joys and True Wealth
For children ages 3–7. Approximate listening time: 8 minutes.
Transcript
Ryaba the Speckled Hen: A Tale of Simple Joys and True Wealth Once upon a time, in a small, quiet village, there was a little wooden house. The house was very pretty. It had a red roof, a little brown chimney, and small windows with clean white curtains. Around the house, there was a beautiful green garden. Tall yellow sunflowers grew in the garden, and green apples grew on the trees. The wind blew softly, and the leaves went whoosh, whoosh. In this little wooden house lived an old man and an old woman. We will call them Grandpa and Grandma. They were very, very old. Their hair was white like snow, and they walked very slowly. But they were very happy. They loved their quiet little house, and they loved each other very much. Every morning, they woke up early when the sun started to shine. Grandpa liked to work in his garden. Grandma liked to bake fresh, warm bread in the kitchen. Grandpa and Grandma did not have much money. They did not have fancy clothes or big cars. But they had a very special friend. Their best friend was a little bird. It was a hen. Her name was Ryaba. Ryaba was not a normal hen. She was a beautiful, speckled hen. She had brown feathers, black feathers, and white feathers. She looked like she had little spots all over her body. "Cluck, cluck, cluck," Ryaba said every morning as she walked around the green yard. Cluck, cluck, cluck. Grandpa and Grandma loved Ryaba very much. They took very good care of her. Grandpa gave her the best yellow seeds to eat. Grandma gave her clean, fresh water to drink. And Ryaba loved them, too. Every single day, Ryaba went to her cozy nest. Her nest was inside a little wooden box, filled with soft, yellow straw. And every single day, Ryaba laid a beautiful, smooth, white egg for Grandpa and Grandma. They cooked the egg for breakfast, ate it with fresh bread, and were very happy. One morning, the sun was shining very brightly. The little birds were singing in the tall trees. It was a beautiful day. Grandma was in the kitchen, making some hot tea. Suddenly, she heard Ryaba in the yard. But Ryaba was not making her normal, quiet sounds. She was very loud! "Cluck, cluck, CLUCK! " said Ryaba. "Cluck, cluck, CLUCK! " It sounded like she was saying, "Look what I have! Come and see! " Grandma wiped her hands on her apron. She walked slowly out to the yard. She went to the little wooden box where Ryaba had her nest of soft yellow straw. Grandma looked inside the nest. She blinked her eyes. She rubbed her eyes. She could not believe what she saw! There, sitting on the yellow straw, was an egg. But it was not a normal, smooth, white egg. No! It was an egg made of pure, shiny gold! It sparkled in the sunlight. It was so bright that Grandma had to cover her eyes for a second. "Oh my goodness! " Grandma whispered. She carefully picked up the golden egg. It was very heavy. Much heavier than a normal egg. She ran back into the house as fast as her old legs could go. "Grandpa! Grandpa! Come quickly! " she called out. Grandpa came running from the garden. He had dirt on his hands, but he didn't care. "What is it? What is it? " he asked. "Look at this," Grandma said. She opened her hands. Grandpa's mouth fell wide open. "A golden egg! " he said. "Our dear Ryaba has given us a magical, golden egg! " They sat down at the wooden table in the kitchen. They put the beautiful golden egg right in the middle of the table. They looked at it for a long, long time. It was so pretty. But soon, Grandpa's tummy started to make a noise. Rumble, grumble. He was hungry. "It is a very beautiful egg," Grandpa said. "But it is time for breakfast. We cannot eat solid gold. We must break it open to cook the egg inside. " Grandma agreed. So, Grandpa took a little wooden spoon. He tapped the golden egg. Tap, tap, tap. But the egg did not break. Grandpa took a bigger wooden spoon. He hit the egg harder. Bang, bang, bang! But the egg did not break. "Let me try," said Grandma. She took a heavy metal spoon. She hit the egg with all her strength. Clank, clank, clank! But the golden egg was too strong. It did not have a single crack! Grandpa hit it again. Bang! Nothing. Grandma hit it again. Clank! Nothing. They tried and tried, but they could not break the golden egg. Grandpa and Grandma were very sad. They were so hungry, and they had no breakfast. They sat down at the table, covered their faces with their hands, and started to cry. Hoo, hoo, hoo. Now, under the floor of the little wooden house, lived a tiny grey mouse. The little mouse had a long pink tail, small round ears, and a little pink nose that always moved. Sniff, sniff, sniff. The little mouse was also very hungry. He smelled the fresh bread in the kitchen. He decided to come up from under the floor to look for some little crumbs. The tiny mouse quietly ran up the leg of the wooden table. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter went his tiny feet. He peeked over the edge of the table. He saw Grandpa crying. He saw Grandma crying. And he saw the big, shiny golden egg in the middle of the table. The little mouse was scared of the loud crying. He wanted to run away quickly! He ran across the table. He ran past Grandma's cup of tea. Zoom! He ran past Grandpa's empty plate. Zoom! And as he ran past the golden egg... SWISH! His long pink tail wagged just a little bit too much. His tail hit the heavy golden egg. Wobble, wobble. The egg began to move. Roll, roll. The egg rolled to the edge of the wooden table. Grandpa gasped. Grandma gasped. The egg fell off the table. CRASH! SMASH! It hit the hard wooden floor. And guess what? The strong golden egg broke! It broke into hundreds of tiny, shiny pieces. Grandpa and Grandma looked at the floor. But there was no egg white inside. There was no yellow yolk inside. It was just an empty gold shell. There was no breakfast for them at all. When Grandpa and Grandma saw the broken pieces, they cried even harder. "Oh no! " cried Grandpa. "Our beautiful egg is broken! " "And we still have no breakfast! " cried Grandma. Just then, they heard a soft, familiar sound at the door. "Cluck, cluck, cluck. " It was Ryaba the speckled hen. She walked into the kitchen. She saw the sad old man. She saw the sad old woman. And she saw the shiny pieces of gold on the floor. Ryaba hopped up onto the wooden table. She looked at Grandpa. She looked at Grandma. She spoke to them in her gentle, clucking voice. "Do not cry, Grandpa," she said softly. "Do not cry, Grandma. " Grandpa and Grandma wiped the tears from their eyes. They listened to their dear friend. "I am sorry the golden egg made you sad," Ryaba said. "Gold is very pretty, yes. But gold is not good for breakfast. Gold is too hard. Gold is too cold. Tomorrow is a new day, and I promise you this... " Ryaba flapped her wings gently. "I will never lay another golden egg. I will lay a nice, simple, smooth white egg for you. Just the way you like it. You can boil it, or you can fry it, and you will have a wonderful breakfast. " Grandpa and Grandma smiled. They stopped crying. They hugged their wonderful speckled hen. They realized that simple things are often the best things. The next morning, the sun shined brightly again. And just as she promised, Ryaba laid a beautiful, smooth, white egg. Grandpa broke it easily with a little tap. They cooked a delicious breakfast, ate it with Grandma's warm bread, and they were never hungry again. And Grandpa, Grandma, and Ryaba the hen lived happily ever after in their little wooden house.