The icy wind blew through the tall pines, and in the snow, Bianca, Tita, and Roja, three farm hens used to the warmth of their coop, trembled from the cold. They had ventured too deep into the woods searching for seeds and lost their way home; winter had fallen upon them with a white cloak, and the worst part was that night was approaching.
Their concern was not just the cold numbing their feet. Each one felt within her the vital weight of her future chicks. They needed a safe and warm place to lay and hatch their eggs before it was too late.
They walked together through the cold forest, giving each other warmth, their feathers bristled. Suddenly, Roja, the boldest of the three, clucked softly. She pointed with her beak at the roots of a hollow tree.
There, hidden beneath a thick layer of snow and fallen branches, was a large hollow trunk.
The hens peered in cautiously. The inside was dry and surprisingly lined with moss and crunchy autumn leaves, a perfect bed left by some woodland creature. The three of them entered, arranged the nest, and curled up in a perfect circle. With a sigh of relief, they settled in to incubate.
Winter was a relentless season, but in their refuge, life awaited its ideal moment to hatch.
Translation by deepl.com