Out in the countryside, a long way from the nearest town, there was a large farm. Many people and animals lived there, and, as you might expect, they were always very busy. The animals laid the eggs and grazed the meadow, while the people tended the fields where the grain grew and planted and harvested the vegetables.
From dawn till dusk there was always plenty to do. So the first most important job was the rooster’s: he would wake up with the first rays of sunshine and loudly crow to announce the arrival of the morning to all the inhabitants of the farm.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo! Morning is here! Get up, get up, you slackers! The last one to get up is a mouldy mole!” He crowed jokingly.
And of course, no one wanted to be a mouldy mole! The piglets jumped straight out of their pigpen into the muddy puddle, the goats ran to graze on the fresh clover, and the ducks had already taken the best spot in the pond. Only the cat was dozing in the hayloft, as he had wandered and meowed all night on the rooftops. He couldn’t care less what the rooster said. Cats have to be available at night, so they deserve to sleep in the morning, and he wouldn’t hear otherwise, mouldy moles or not.
That was how every day had begun for as long as even the oldest ox could remember, and he was so old that his horns were almost completely covered in moss. The rooster, too, had already served many years. His voice was sometimes rather hoarse and it was taking him longer than ever now to straighten his claws. He was ready to retire to a warm, dry coop with a perch and to…
