They quietly shuffle in, careful in this pre-dawn hour to not wake the other inhabitants of the farm to soon. Each glossy rooster, feathers in place, takes his place, strategically placed around the farmyard for optimum acoustics's. One red bantam sits high atop the cupola, another on a branch of the pine tree in the farmhouse yard. A white leghorn, the tenor of the group, is placed on the sheep yard fence, while his buddy takes his spot by the tractor shed. The rest of the orchestra is scattered around the farm, down by the creek, over in the cow pasture, a couple in the wheat field and a few in the vineyard.
The black bantam conductor raises his tiny wand, set to get the show started at precisely 4:30 am. A chicken toe starts to tap out the countdown - one, two and a small flick of the conductors stick has the first sounds slowly and quietly starting from the rooster in the back forty - rrrrRRrrrrRRRRRR is quietly heard. The others start to join in, timed and practiced so well that not a sound is heard out of time or rhythm.
Slowly the morning symphony starts to penetrate the tired brains of the human inhabitants of the farm. First filtering into their dreams, until finally a weary hand reaches up to rub the sleep out of a tired eye. Someone shuffles down the back stairs and into the kitchen. Soon the aroma of coffee brewing wafts gently out the front door, mixing with the early morning scents of the farm.
With head cocked to capture the first movements of the day, the banty conductor slows the tempo until the last sounds of the symphony ring out through the lightning sky. "Okay fellows, wrap it up. Good job today, Lads. Good job!"