Why Roosters Fight One Another

Why Roosters Fight One Another

An old Filipino tale tells of a kingdom where everyone loved celebrations. Bells chimed in the palace, lanterns glowed in the gardens, the kitchens smelled of rice and sweet fruit, and musicians played in the courtyard almost every day. The king and queen had everything they could wish for, but for a long time they had no children. Then one morning, a miracle happened. A little rooster was born into the royal family. Not an ordinary rooster, but a true prince. The moment he opened his eyes, he lifted his head and cried, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” The king jumped in surprise. The queen laughed. “What a voice! The whole kingdom will know when our son wakes up.” The next year another little rooster-prince was born. Then a third. Then a fourth. And in time the palace was home to thirteen rooster-princes. Each had a bright comb. Each walked with his head held high. And each was completely certain that his voice was the loudest. Every morning the eldest cried, “Cock-a-doodle-doo! I woke the sun!” The second immediately answered, “No, I did!” The third called, “You were both late. I thought of crowing first!” “Thinking is not the same as crowing,” said the fourth. And the argument began. As long as the king and queen were nearby, they could usually calm their sons. “There is room in a great courtyard for all of you,” the king reminded them. “A voice becomes beautiful not when it drowns out everyone else, but when it sounds at the right time,” added the queen. The young roosters only half listened. One day the king gathered them in the throne room. “Someday you will have to manage the affairs of the court yourselves. So you must learn to discuss things together.” “I already know how!” cried the first. “I know better!” shouted the second. “I know best!” yelled the third. Within seconds, thirteen voices were echoing from the ceiling. The king rubbed his forehead. “You clearly need practice.” Years passed. The old king and queen eventually handed the daily work of the kingdom to their grown sons and moved to a quiet house near the gardens, where at last they could sleep past sunrise. The thirteen roosters remained in the palace. On the very first morning, an important question appeared. “Who will be in charge?” “I will,” said the eldest. “I am oldest.” “But I am loudest,” said the second. “My comb is tallest,” said the third. “My feathers shine brightest,” said the fourth. “And I found the first grain in the yard yesterday,” said the fifth. Every rooster had a reason why he should be the greatest. First they decided on a crowing contest. They lined up along the wall. “One, two, three!” “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!” The sound was so enormous that pigeons flew from the roof, the cook dropped a spoon, and the gatekeeper thought a storm had begun. “I won!” all thirteen announced at once. So they tried jumping. Then racing to the gates. Then strutting across the courtyard. Then comparing shadows. The shadow contest was especially troublesome because the sun kept moving, and the winner changed every few minutes. “That is not fair!” cried the roosters. “It is the sun's fault!” The sun, naturally, offered no opinion. At last the brothers became so absorbed in competing that they began bumping shoulders and flapping angrily at one another. An old gardener heard the commotion and came carrying a basket of seeds. “What are you doing?” “Determining who is most important,” said one rooster. “For three days now,” added another. “And have you succeeded?” The roosters were silent. “Who checked the drinking water this morning?” asked the gardener. Silence. “Who helped open the gate for the traders?” Silence. “Who woke the kitchen staff at the right time?” The brothers looked at one another. “We were busy competing.” The gardener nodded. “So you are arguing about who will manage the courtyard best, and because of the argument, no one is managing it at all.” Thirteen combs drooped a little. “What should we do?” asked the youngest. “Stop trying to choose one best rooster. Share the responsibilities.” So they did. One gave the morning signal. Another watched the gates. A third helped the gardeners notice spilled grain. A fourth checked that the chicks had returned safely by evening. Soon everyone had a useful task. For several days the courtyard was wonderfully peaceful. Then one morning the first rooster crowed so beautifully that the second could not resist. “I can do better.” “Try.” “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” “That is not better!” A third hurried over. “Move aside. I will show you.” Soon several roosters were lined along the wall trying to outcrow one another again. The old gardener heard the familiar noise and smiled. According to the old tale, roosters have never entirely forgotten their ancient habit of competing. When two meet, they straighten, lift their combs, and seem to wonder, “Perhaps today we will finally discover who is greatest.” But there is another reminder hidden in every loud crow. Wanting to be first can become so absorbing that you forget the work you wanted to lead in the first place.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨