Chicken Island

It was the weekend and M and T were busy with a long list of housework.

“Where do we start?” asked T. “With our rooms,” said M. “A clean room is good for the soul.”

Just as they began, there was a sound at the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They paused. From the knocks, they could tell something was up. Something strange was afoot in SnoozyTown.

At the door, M and T found their friend Mia. Mia lived near the seashore and spent her time watching the waves crashing in. She loved listening to the sea breeze and spotting ocean creatures. Birds, dolphins, and even the wise old crab, Arthur, who’d scuttle across the beach wearing his hat and scarf. She would often look out toward the magnificent islands just off the coast. But today, she looked worried.

“M and T,” said Mia, “Chicken Island has disappeared.” 

“Disappeared?” said T.

“Yeah,” said Mia. “It’s just vanished. The chickens are bobbing in the water. But there’s no island left.”

Chicken Island was a tiny paradise, just offshore. It was home to chickens and only chickens. And not just any chickens. They were known as the world’s happiest chickens. Visitors were met with the broadest smiles and the loudest “buck-buck-bucking.” They were brought wave surfing, waterfall swimming, and sandy dune leaping. The chickens loved their island. And their island loved them too.

But there was always one little mystery. Sometimes, when the chickens got close to the water, something would nip them. No one ever saw what it was. There was just a quick splash and a little nibble. That was the only thing that ever disturbed the peace. Until now.

Now all of Chicken Island had disappeared, and only the chickens were left, bobbing sadly on the waves.

“We must investigate,” said M. “The chickens need our help.”

The three Fixers, M, T, and Mia, pulled on their Fixer T-shirts and climbed into their kayaks. They paddled out to sea and headed toward the spot where the island used to be.

The first chicken they saw was Chuck. Chuck was one of the leaders of Chicken Island. He was usually smiling, proud, and full of energy. But not today. Chuck’s feathers were drooping. His smile was gone. He floated in the water, looking a bit lost.

“What happened?” asked M. “It... fell away in the night,” said Chuck. “We were all in our nests, having the nicest snooze. And then, the island just sank beneath us. Straight down into the sea… Can you help us?”

M and T looked at Mia. As one, the Fixers nodded. Whenever something went wrong in SnoozyTown, the Fixers and their friends were there to help. They couldn’t leave anyone stuck or alone. Whether they were a human, a chicken, or a crab.

“Okay,” said M. “Scuba gear on.” And down they went into the shallow SnoozyTown sea. Down and down. Until there it was. The beautiful island. Chicken Island, resting quietly on the seabed. It looked the same, except now it was completely underwater.

They swam closer, before Mia pointed frantically past M and T. They looked around and saw it at once.

A digger. A huge yellow digger sitting on the seabed, right next to the island and beside a big pile of sand.

“What is a digger doing down here?” they all thought.

They swam to investigate the island further, passing through the trees, over the dunes, and down to the beach. 

That’s when they saw him.

Furious Frank the Fish. He was exploring the island, muttering, “It’s mine, it’s finally mine.” Furious Frank had always been jealous of the chickens. He lived in the sea and had spent years watching them have a great time on Chicken Island. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Mia, M, and T now realised that Furious Frank the Fish was the chicken toe nipper. And last night, he had taken things much further indeed.

The Fixers acted. T grabbed the net. Mia moved around behind. Together, they caught Furious Frank and brought him up toward the surface. His furious head poked out of the water while his body wriggled below in the watery net.

“What are you doing?” asked Mia. Furious Frank grinned proudly. “Ha ha! The island is mine. Chickens will never live there again. It’s going to stay underwater with me. Forever!

“My plan worked, you see. First, I stole the digger when Dreyo the builder parked it at the pier one night.

Then I dug and dug, stone by stone, until the bottom of the island gave way. And down it went! It sank so silently, and now it belongs to the fish!”

“Not a chance,” said M.

“Not a chance,” said T.

And “Not a chance,” said Mia.

“Well then,” said Frank, “what are you going to do about it?” 

“We’re going to help our friends,” said M. “That’s what we always do.”

The three of them paddled back to town and told everyone that Chicken Island had sunk, and what Furious Frank had done.

The chickens were left homeless, floating on the sea, sad and confused.

The townspeople listened, worked together on a plan, and got to work.

Scuba diving was popular in SnoozyTown. Many people had old scuba tanks, flippers, and masks. These were soon brought to the pier and loaded on a big boat.

M, T, and Mia met Chuck and whispered an ingenious plan in his feathery ear.

He was amazed.

“You’re going to teach us, chickens, how to scuba dive?” he asked. “Yes,” said M. “We’re going to show you how. And you’ll see why.”

Day after day, M, T, Mia, and the other SnoozyTown Fixers coached the chickens. After school, they’d spend an hour or two diving together.

At first, the chickens flapped wildly. They spun around in a million different directions. The water got up their noses and dripped down their backs.

But the Fixers encouraged them. “It’s the same with everything,” they said. “No one is good on the first day. And a little practice makes all the difference.”

Soon, the chickens became some of SnoozyTown, and the world's best scuba divers.

Furious Frank, still splashing in his net, watched on. He couldn’t believe the town’s help for the chickens.

He saw huge metal containers lowered down to the seabed. On the sides was written “Scuba Air Refill Tanks”. Frank scratched his fin but couldn’t understand what everyone was up to.

That’s until, one day, he saw it.

First, chicken feet, lots of them, bobbing on the water, each wearing bright flippers. Then, the chicken heads dipped below. On their faces: big, wide goggles. On their backs: shiny small air tanks. And then, the chickens dove. Hundreds of chickens swimming down.

Frank stared. They glided to their old island home, swimming around the trees, bouncing along the grass, and letting out long, delighted “buck-bucks”.

The Fixers had realised they couldn’t bring Chicken Island back to the surface, but they could bring the chickens to the island.

The happy hens found their old coops, tidied up their little nests, and settled back into the place they called home.

M, Mia, and T spoke to Frank. “You don’t get to steal people’s homes,” said M. “Not in SnoozyTown.”

“And even if you try to steal them, you don’t get to keep them,” said T. “You’re heading to where the coral never gets comfy,” said Mia. “It’s where naughty fish go to think about their behaviour.”

As the sunset drew in, the Fixers sat in their kayaks looking down through the water. The rays of light shone on the chickens, still donning their scuba gear and back where they belonged. Slowly, after all the swimming and excitement, the chickens began to snooze. Some stayed in their coops, others drifted to their favourite bushes, but all tucked their heads beneath their wings and readied themselves for their first night’s sleep, underwater.

As the moonlight shone across the ocean, M, T, and Mia turned toward home. They paddled quietly across the sea, watching the light glinting softly on the waves. At the pier, townsfolk met them with hugs and warm smiles.

Together, as a team, they had done what was right. Again. 

Now, knowing Chicken Island was safe again, they were ready for their own snooze, packed with dreams of cherry chickens.

And so, SnoozyTown settled once more into sleep.

The End.