Episode 3: The Autumn Watch

Autumn in the woods of Cedar Paddock

The paddock glows under the slow burn of fall. Sunlight filters through the oaks and maples, scattering gold across the runs. The air is warm still — sweet with dry grass and dust — but the leaves whisper of change.

In the red house, Travis limps from one end of the covered run to the other. His stride is uneven, but his purpose is not. Each step is deliberate, each crow measured — not the booming call of conquest, but the low, resonant sound of duty. He tidbits softly for the hens, dropping kernels and seeds he’s found, pausing when Augustine lingers too far behind. He still circles the run before dusk, scanning the sky for shadows. The leg may tremble, but the protector remains.

Across the paddock, the White House stirs with noise. Ricky crows from behind the wire, again and again, voice cracking through the still air like a challenge thrown to the wind. His feathers catch the light, burnished and proud, but there is nowhere for that energy to go. He paces the pen, kicking at the dirt, eyes fixed on the red house that used to be his stage.

Todd, the Alpha Rooster of the White House

Todd was the first to meet him after the exile — hackles up, chest high, a silent warning through the fence. The two roosters held each other’s gaze until the world seemed to narrow around them. Then, with a sharp flick of his tail, Ricky stepped back. Todd lowered his hackles. The line between kingdoms was drawn.

Now, life continues in uneasy balance. Travis, limping but resolute, leads his hens with quiet strength. Todd shadows him from a distance, learning the rhythm of leadership but never daring to overstep. And from the far pen, Ricky crows through every sunrise and sunset, as if sheer persistence could make the world forget that he’s been caged.

The hens know who guards them. Still, when Ricky’s voice rises on the breeze, they pause in their dust baths and tilt their heads toward the sound — not in longing, but remembrance. Even exile, it seems, can echo.

The days stay warm for now. The fields shimmer in copper and amber. But every evening, when the light softens and the roosters call across the paddock, the wind carries something new — a tension just beneath the beauty, a question waiting for an answer.

And through it all, Travis keeps walking. Limping, yes — but never yielding.

To be continued…