The Chick With No Name

By Ella Wong

Far, far away, and a long, long time ago, there lived a hen. She was a beautiful hen, with snow white feathers and a lovely, soft red plume on her head. She lived in a bright yellow chicken house on a farm. 

One day, she was sitting on her eggs when she felt a little shuffle next to her bottom. She leapt up and cried, “My chicks are hatching! Oh, come see, my wonderful babies are hatching!” 

Hens and roosters flocked into the chicken house to see the chicks hatching. Crack! The first shell broke and out popped a little chick. He had soft, fluffy yellow feathers and a cute orange beak. Crack! Out popped a second chick, nearly identical to his brother. Crack! And another! Crack! And another! The proud new Mother Hen wasted no time. She set about naming the chicks. 

“You shall be Fluffy,” she said to the one with the fluffiest feathers. 

“You can be Yellow,” she said to the chick with the brightest yellow feathers. 

“You shall be Beak-Beak,” she told the chick with the largest beak. Beak-Beak looked ridiculous; half his face was his beak. 

Mother Hen was on a roll now: “Warm-Beak! Henny!” she cried, pointing at the chicks. But when she came to the last little chick, the youngest, she stopped and scratched her head. She thought and thought. She thought long and hard, but she just couldn't think of a name for the poor chick. He was cute, but Cutie had already been used on the chick’s sister. He seemed perfect, but Perfect had been used too. He cocked his head to one side, just like his brother Cockie. 

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “You’ll have to be No-Name.” 

No-Name was not very pleased about this.

No-Name and his brothers and sisters grew up healthy and plump on the farm, but No-Name wasn’t happy at all. In fact, he was mostly miserable because all the other chicks teased him. 

“You’ve got no name! We don’t play with chicks who have no names!” they said every time he asked to join in their games. 

Soon he didn’t ask at all. 

Mother Hen told him: “You’re a lovely chick. Just wait until you’re older, and the chicks’ll love you. I certainly do.” And she would wrap her wings around him and hug him tight. 

But No-Name didn’t want to wait until he was older. He was fed up with being teased. 

One day, he hopped onto a pile of crates and yelled, as loudly as he could, “I’m leaving!” 

There was a shocked, stunned silence. It was a fragile moment, and the silence was shattered by a chick shouting, “You?! You have no name! That’s the simplest thing! You can’t possibly have the courage to go outside the farm!” 

But No-Name was determined to do it. He packed a bottle of water and some cheese into a little pouch, which he carried on his back, and said, “Good-bye! When I come back, I shall have a wonderful name!” And, ignoring the laughter, he walked out of the farm for the very first time.

Illustration by Edward Wong

The road was so big that No-Name found it dizzying. He was tempted to step right back into the farm. “Stop it,” he told himself. “You’re going to find a name and that’s that.” 

He thought maybe he should go to the Big City, so off he went down the road. 

On his way he met a rose. She was withered and terribly thirsty. “Help me!” the rose croaked. “I’m so thirsty I have no water left in me!” 

No-Name felt sorry for the rose and gave the rose his water. She gulped it down gratefully. 

“Thank you! In return, what would you like?” the rose asked kindly. 

“Could you tell me a name?” No-Name suggested eagerly. 

The rose thought for a moment. “What about Daisy? That’s the name of my cousin—she lives in the Big City in a beautiful glass vase.” 

No-Name shook his head. “It’s a wonderful name, but it’s not what I’m looking for. Thank you anyway!” And he went on his way.

Next No-Name came across a dog. It was staring gloomily into a pool of water. His tummy let out a long growl. 

“You must be hungry.” No-Name said. He gave the dog all his cheese. 

The dog ate it up greedily, swallowed, and said, “Thank you so much, little chick! I was starving. What would you like in return?” 

No-Name asked the dog if it had a name for him. 

“Hmm. What about Retriever? My nephew is a Golden Retriever,” he said. 

No-Name shook his head. “Thanks, but it’s not what I’m looking for.” 

He thanked the dog again and went on his way.

When No-Name finally arrived at the Big City, he was amazed by the gleaming lights and glowing neon signs. Loud pop music blasted out from somewhere and the loud noises of traffic almost covered up the music. The streets were filled with people and lined with twisting alleys and brightly lit shops. No-Name was swept away in the crowd. 

Suddenly, he was lifted up among the sea of people, and then he was staring into a little girl’s face. She had red freckles and two brown ponytails sticking out either side of her head.

“Oh, you’re so cute!” She cooed. “I want to keep you. I’ll call you...Chick-Chick!” 

Chick-Chick! Such a great name for a little chick! 

The newly named Chick-Chick tried to hop off the girl’s hand, but her fingers closed tightly around him. 

“Don’t go, Chick-Chick,” she whispered. “You’re going to love your new home.” 

No matter how hard Chick-Chick struggled, he couldn’t get out of the girl’s grasp. 

Tired out, he let the girl take him to a flat in an apartment. The girl opened her hand, and before Chick-Chick knew it, he was falling through the air. He landed with a bump in a glass jar. 

“Charlotte!” someone shouted. 

“Coming!” The girl shouted back. “Wait a minute, Chick-Chick. I won’t be a sec.” She smiled, then flounced out of the room.

Chick-Chick struggled to climb the glass walls of the jar, but he couldn’t get up. They were too smooth and too tall. Chick-Chick sighed. 

Suddenly, a cat slunk out of the shadows. The cat’s black pupils became slits as it pounced. Chick-Chick screamed as the glass broke into splinters. 

“No, Clover!” The girl shrieked as the cat raced after Chick-Chick. 

The little chick ran for his life. Eventually he made it back to the road. 

As he set off back home, whistling, he spotted a loaf of bread. His tummy rumbled. He ran towards it, but he had only pecked the bread a few times when some schoolboys jumped up out of a bush, laughing and throwing stones at him. It was a trap! 

Chick-Chick ran as fast as he could, dodging the stones, but the boys easily kept up with him. Suddenly, a blur of brown leapt out of another bush. It was the dog Chick-Chick had fed! The dog barked and snarled. The schoolboys laughed again and pelted the dog with stones. But it reared up and let out a fierce “ROAR!” 

The boys were frightened this time. They fell all over each other, scrambling to get away. 

“Go, little chick.” the dog murmured, still snarling, and he chased the schoolboys away.

A little more of the way down the road, a group of giggling girls, all with curly brown hair, passed by Chick-Chick. “Hey, look! That pouch is so cute!” One of them exclaimed, plucking the pouch from Chick-Chick’s back. 

“Give it back!” Chick-Chick yelled, but the girls didn’t hear him. 

Then the girl who was holding the pouch bent down. “This rose is pretty, isn’t it?” she said, reaching out to pluck the flower. 

Chick-Chick gasped. It was the rose he’d given water to! The rose winked. The girl pricked her finger on one of the rose’s thorns. “Ow!” she exclaimed, dropping the pouch. 

“Thanks!” Chick-Chick called back as he darted forwards and grabbed the pouch. He was soon back on the road.

When he arrived back at the farm, he was extremely proud. 

“My new name is Chick-Chick!” he announced at the top of his lungs. 

The other chicks were silent. They were absolutely stunned as Chick-Chick recounted his story. Then cheering echoed throughout the farm. 

“Chick-Chick! No chicken from this farm, much less a little chick like you, has ever been to the Big City,” Mother Hen beamed. 

And from then on, Chick-Chick was always welcomed into games, and whenever he was teased, he was always able to stand up for himself.

So, if you are ever teased, remember to prove to everyone you’re better than they think, just like Chick-Chick did.