Why I like "The hen that could".

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Bobbie Kinkead

a rough-cut book bubble about

Damsels Overcome

Self-Help

synopsis

Synopsis
The book contains folk, cautionary tales, myths and legends which inspired damsels to overcome challenges in their environment: predators, hunger, oppression, or aggression, and traditional male norms and standards.

bio

Author Biography
I love stories. I told stories as a child: in the backyard digging holes in the sand pile my dad use for cement, playing at the creek, finding frogs or fishing, walking to and from school, sitting in the swing in the garden rocking back and forth on warm Colorado nights, hiking in the Alaska Mountains, sitting on the train going back and forth to Colorado, or having a coffee at a café in Oakland, CA or telling a story to my children before they fell asleep, now my grandchildren who are engrossed with tales. As a child, drawing was my way of communicating. Today, I am a writer of words as well as a verbal storyteller, which blends skills of illustrating, speaking, and written words to create, enhance, reimage, embroidery, fabricate, and elaborate stories to fascinate those who view, hear, and read the tales! --->I love stories which inform us about our worlds.

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Author Insight

Why I like "The hen that could".

This is the first folktale, I really heard as a child. I loved the fact the little hen made bread all by herself. We did have the little prairie birds on the Alpine Meadows of Colorado, especially at Harstel Flats, we drove through to go fishin'. In Colorado Springs, My brother and I walked from our home on 18 St across a long field to 26 St were Grandma Bessie lived. We ventured through the disabled train terminal where trains once traveled up Pike Peak to Cripple Creek and down to the Golden Cycle Mill, that was also abandon. We live by Fountain Creek and below the gold mill. What fun we had exploring. By the time we got to grandma's house, she had baked fresh bread for us, and we had many stories to tell. She was my prairie HEN!

Book Excerpt

Damsels Overcome

I’m a hen and I live on the flat, open prairie with yummy oat grass. A time back not so long ago, I sat on my nest of eggs and thought. Cluck! I need a better way to eat! Hungry, I bustle from my nest to pick up the scattered seeds or scratch for juicy bugs while watching for gliding hawk. I listen for prowling fox or sneaking bobcat while drinking at the creek. Then I scurry back to my eggs to keep them warm.

I watch as my chicks scratch for bugs and seeds while hiding under the thistles. Always we are in danger. “Cluck! What to do?”
Then while scratching for seeds among the tall grasses, I heard, “Swish! Swish!”

“S Q U A W K! RUN, CHICKS, RUN!”

I was sure hawk found us. Looking up I saw a stock of dried oat berries swaying in the wind. I pecked that stock of seeds down and tucked the stock under my wing.
“Come! Cluck-cluck.” I called my chicks. “Cluck!”
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