On a quiet farm one sunny morning, Clucky the hen was scratching the ground for breakfast. Then she spotted a strange bag lying near the barn.
“Peckster! Come quick!” she squawked. “The farmer’s lost a bag of tiny, round chickens!”
Peckster the rooster strutted over, puffing out his chest. “A-ha! Babies without feathers! They must be my long-lost cousins.”
But before Clucky could sit on them, the bag gave a wiggle. A little voice squeaked: “We are not chickens! We are chickpeas!”
Clucky blinked. “Chickpeas? Then why do you have ‘chick’ in your name?”
The chickpeas grumbled. “We didn’t choose it. Blame the humans. We’re beans, not babies!”
Peckster flapped his wings. “Nonsense! I shall teach you how to crow.” He cleared his throat and shouted, “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!”
The chickpeas tried their best but only squeaked, “PEA-PEA-PEA!”
Clucky decided to help too. She plopped down on top of the bag. “Don’t worry, little ones. I’ll hatch you!”
The chickpeas squealed. “We don’t need hatching. We need cooking!”
The chickens didn’t listen. They marched the chickpeas around the farm. They tried to teach them how to scratch for worms. They showed them how to flap imaginary wings and peck at corn. Every time the chickens got too bossy, the chickpeas rolled away like marbles, giggling.
Finally, the bag ripped open, and chickpeas went rolling everywhere! Clucky chased them in circles. Peckster slipped and landed on his tail. The farmer came out to see chickens skidding and tumbling after runaway beans.
“What in the world?” the farmer laughed. He scooped up the bag, but the chickens blocked him.
“These are our babies now,” Clucky declared. “Bean babies.”
That night, the farmyard was quiet again. Clucky tucked the chickpeas under her feathers. Peckster stood proudly on the fence, keeping watch. And if you listened closely, you could hear the chickpeas snoring softly: “Pea… pea… pea…”
And that’s how the farm became home to the world’s very first flock of Chick-Beans.