In a village, in a little house situated near a flowing stream, in the yard lived two cockerels. Every day in the henhouse, which was also home to laying hens and little chicks, it was very noisy because these two cockerels were constantly picking fights and quarrelling with each other.
And they quarrelled and fought each time over trifles and insignificant matters: one looked askance and unfriendly, the other crowed and made a racket at the wrong time.
Well, why are you always finding fault with each other? Such a lovely sunny day, and you're at it again...
Asked the piglet, poking his snout out of the puddle in which he'd been wallowing since early morning.
Not far away in the shed stood a cow, peacefully chewing her grass.
She slowly raised her head and, drawing out her words, slowly said:
Moo-oo-oo, Moo-oo-oo! What troublemakers, what rascals! And why can't they live quietly and peacefully?
And she continued to chew her grass steadily.
One day the cockerels quarrelled so loudly and for so long that all the inhabitants of the yard were forced to gather at the sound.
Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Come everyone, judge between us, please. We'll never be able to sort it out ourselves!
The cockerels crowed with all their might.
And so, the important geese gathered, the restless hens, the portly pigs also left their favourite mud puddles and came to the centre of the yard. All the animals left their business and surrounded the spirited cockerels.
The rivals stopped for a moment, moved slightly apart from each other, put their wings akimbo and asked their yard neighbours:
Judge us! Which of us is the most handsome and most distinguished? Tell us, only tell the truth, hiding nothing and embellishing nothing. Whose feathers are the brightest? Whose tail is the longest and fluffiest? Whose voice is the most melodious?
The animals and birds fell silent, pondering how to answer the cockerels' questions properly, how to judge between them. Both fine fellows were very handsome, both sang merrily and melodiously... One more splendid than the other, yes indeed—difficult to choose. The animals thought for a long time, conferred, argued and, in the end, sent a negotiator to the quarrelling cockerels.
A cat stepped into the middle of the farmyard.
The moggy fluffed up his tail, smoothed his whiskers, of which he was secretly very proud, miaowed quietly and spoke:
We've been thinking and thinking here, and this is what we've decided... You're both, cockerels, absolute beauties. Everyone round here knows that better cockerels than ours can't be found in any yard in the whole village, even in the entire district.
How can that be?! Does that mean my feathers are just as bright, long and beautiful as my rival's?
One of the cockerels ruffled up.
Then the second braggart troublemaker rattled his spurs, scratched the ground with his claws and said:
But does he sing as loudly, melodiously and beautifully as I do? Right then, watch out!!
And both cockerels began fighting again. Dust rose in a column, beautiful feathers flew in all directions, the yard was full of noise.
And when the enormous cloud of dust settled, came to rest on the ground, all the inhabitants of the poultry yard rubbed their eyes, shook off the thick layer of dust and dirt that had appeared after the cockerels' battle, and saw a pitiful sight.
Both rivals stood dirty, with rubbish in their wings, with plucked feathers, dishevelled tails. Torn combs hung to one side, legs scratched till they bled, the fighters' breathing wouldn't recover.
From exhaustion both cockerels plopped into a puddle, too weak even to talk, let alone crow and sort out their rights. Their voices were hoarse from loud crowing, from their beaks came only painful hissing.
Then an important goose stepped forward and said:
What have you done, you unsuccessful fighters? Oh you troublemakers, show-offs, braggarts... Look at yourselves now, and then at each other. And which of you is better now, more handsome, brighter and more melodious?
The cockerel troublemakers could say nothing in their defence.
From that time on in the poultry yard, and indeed in the whole village, it became quieter and more peaceful. The cockerels no longer quarrelled, no longer boasted to each other, but lived amicably and peacefully.
And in the mornings, taking turns, they preened their bright feathers and sang out their melodious and resonant:
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
