MARIGOLD IS A CHICKEN

A young chick wonders what her special talent might be.

Four hens in the coop all have colorful eggs, waiting to hatch. One chick pops out wearing a sweatband. She is destined to be an athlete. The second draws the Mona Lisa (in chicken form) on the barn wall. The third wears glasses and is already reading the “hencylopedia” (“She’ll be a scientist, I just know it!” gushes her mother). Marigold is the last chick born. And she is, “well, just a chick.” Marigold tries hard to copy the others, but her skills aren’t good enough (“2+2 = umm, underwear?”). So she tries new hobbies. But nothing works. A teary Marigold wails, “I’m not good at ANYTHING!” A warm hug from her mother and soft assurances help comfort the distraught chick. “None of the other chicks are you,” Mama says. “All you have to be is Marigold.” And from her walk to her laugh, Marigold is the best Marigold that any chick could be. Latimer’s sunny farmyard fields and bright, wide-eyed chickens amplify the lesson that ordinary can be extraordinary. Every one of the squat, fluffy chicks must find their own path to poultry prowess. A diagram of a chicken life cycle is appended.

A cheery celebration of individuality.