Backstory

For millions of years, the ancestors of the Flying Chicken flapped, glided, and failed spectacularly at the one thing they were designed to do. Generations of birds threw themselves off ledges in the name of progress, achieved roughly one second of airborne panic, and landed in bushes that are now considered sacred ground. Then, one ordinary morning, evolution finally paid off. A chicken took off. It did not panic. It did not land in a bush. It flew.

The Flying Chicken is the payoff of that entire ridiculous programme. It flies over your walls, over your traps, over the concept of a choke point, and — as the farm’s defenders have learned the hard way — over common sense. Ground-based obstacles mean nothing to it because it has decided, correctly, that the sky is an option.

It is fast, it is smug, and it is terrible at landing, which is the only comfort available. Every flight ends in a small, undignified tumble that it pretends was intentional. But the important part — the part the farm has to remember — is that flying is not the same as being invincible. Ordinary towers still hit it. The sky is an option, but it is not a shield.