//------------------------------//
// 12 From Death Springs Life 
// Story: Alternate Beginnings: Year Six 
// by Doug Graves 
//------------------------------//

"Mama, the birds are pretty!"

"Yes, Hedge, the ducks are very pretty." Fluttershy sits at the pond at Sweet Apple Acres, her fifteen month old foal watching the ducks swimming around the pond, mesmerized by the waterfowl moving back and forth over the still water. Tiny ripples spread from each, the ever growing circles running into each other from every which way. Some cancel out, other waves becoming larger, and still more forming ephemeral patterns that just as quickly disappear.

The ducks quack to each other, brief bursts of sound to let the others know everything is still okay, and to not mind the strange yellow and pink creature and her tan foal. An occasional longer whistle comes out, the other ducks in the pond floating closer to inspect the newly found food source, then deciding that it is the same one a different duck discovered five minutes ago. A few of them paddle closer to the ponies, a brief warble wondering if the bread they have is as tasty as it looks.

Hedge briefly glances at her dam; getting a small nod and a hoof motion forward, a soft, "Go ahead and feed them, dear,"  Hedge takes the small loaf of bread next to her, trying to rip a chunk of the hard crust off with her hooves. She slowly gets frustrated, picking it up and whacking it against the cloth spread underneath the two ponies. Fluttershy watches with a small smile as Hedge grunts and takes the bread, gnawing a bit of the crust off with her growing teeth. She spits out the crust, starting to work her hooves on the exposed dough inside.

"Ahem," Fluttershy coughs; Hedge looks at her dam, then follows the mare's gaze to the piece of bread she spit out. She gets up, grabs the piece in a hoof and goes to throw it into the pond. Fluttershy says, in a quiet voice, "No, Hedge, we don't give the pieces that have been in our mouths to the ducks. Only give them pieces your hooves have touched, and only if your hooves are clean."

"Why?" comes the curious response, Hedge, backing up and looking at the small crust in her hoof. Aside from a few obvious tooth marks the bread still looks edible, and only a small amount of saliva is visible. It landed on the cloth, so no dirt on it, either. Hedge peers closer, trying to figure out what is wrong with the piece of bread.

"Oh, dear," Fluttershy ponders, looking across the pond, the ducks starting to gather near the ponies and honking to each other about a potential new source of food. "Would you like the long answer or the short answer?"

"Short answer." Hedge eats the crusty piece before taking the small loaf, tearing it down the middle and ripping out a bit of the soft dough. She flings it towards the lake, her tiny forelegs unable to throw the piece the several yards to the ponds edge. She slowly walks forward as one of the ducks grunts, hopping out of the water and waddling over to the piece of bread resting in the dirt.

Fluttershy thinks for a few seconds before saying, "Because it's gross." Fluttershy smiles, watching Hedge and the duck stop, both about a foot away from the piece of bread. The duck takes a cautious step forward, then another, then a quick sprint forward, grabbing the bread in his bill and darting back to the water with a whistle. Fluttershy says, "McQuack says thank you for the bread, and he let his family know that you might have more."

Hedge looks back at the loaf of bread, then at the ducks congregating at the waters edge. She sprints as fast a year old foal can, getting to the loaf a few seconds later. She tears off a piece, running up to the pond and flinging the piece as far as she can. It lands a few feet past the ducks, the closest three turning and racing. Hedge asks as she returns for another piece, "Why is it gross? And why could he eat the dirty piece? That way more gross." She looks at one of her hooves, shaking off a little of the wet dirt that had gotten on her hooves.

"Um, because things that we think are gross are more likely to make us sick. It might not always be true, but a good rule of hoof." Fluttershy takes a bite of her own loaf of bread, chewing the hard crust; she swallows some and spits out a small pile of mush. "Now, if you found this out in the field, would you eat it?"

Hedge looks around at the field surrounding them, then down at the soggy piece of bread, then at her dam, a hesitant, "Um, yes? It was just in your mouth." She looks out at the ducks, "And lots of animals feed their young like that."

"That's true, lots of animals have to help their young like this. There are lots of chemicals in your mouth that help with digestion, and baby birds especially might not be able to handle it otherwise. Or, because the food is easier to transport that way." Fluttershy grins, "Who wants to carry a wriggling worm when you can chew it a little first?"

"Eww, I don't want to eat a worm," Hedge says, her tongue sticking out a little.

"And that's what it means to think of something as gross." Fluttershy smiles as Hedge grabs another two pieces of bread, walking to the water and tossing them to the ducks. The ducks quack in thanks, Fluttershy saying, "Now, Hedge, remember that you need to eat your bread too, to grow up nice and strong."

"Okay, Mama." Hedge waves at the ducks; they raise a wing as they paddle back to the center of the pond. She stares at the lump of mush, "If I didn't know that was bread, and was only in your mouth, then I wouldn't eat it."

"Very good, Hedge, that's exactly right. You don't know if the animal that spit that out was sick, or if it was because it tasted bad and might be poisonous, or have gone bad. And we definitely don't want you getting sick."

Hedge shakes her head as she eats the rest of her bread. Fluttershy gets up, packing up the remains of their afternoon snack, balancing the empty basket on her back. The two return, but not to the farmhouse, but to the chicken coop. Fluttershy knocks a hoof on the wooden wall, opening the door to reveal a dozen chickens. Most are perched on their nests atop laying boxes, a few chicks wandering around the fenced in yard on the opposite side.

Fluttershy walks in, Hedge cautiously following behind; the mare greets them, "Hello, Apple Cluckers!" She moves to the rooster, the red bird looking at her with one eye, then the other. He cackles, strutting back and forth before settling back down. "Okay, Giz, I'll be sure to check her out." Fluttershy nods at the rooster, collecting the eggs in the laying boxes as she walks past. 

Hedge follows closely, her first time peering around the inside of the coop. She smiles at the rooster, the red bird softly crowing at the foal. She steps over the straw, watching her dam inspect one of the hens, getting a little closer as she notices the frown on Fluttershy's face.

Fluttershy grimaces as she inspects the egg, the brittle shell immediately apparent. There would be no more eggs from Gander, at least none usable. She glances to the side as Giz steps up, a brief exchange between the two chickens. Fluttershy sighs, nodding at the rooster; the hen looks down at the ground, her body slowing down. "I'm sorry, Giz, but I think it's her time." The rooster warbles, the hen softly clucking in return. "We could try, it's worked in the past, but I think Gander is too old. The chance of it working, is... she's not a young hen, any more. I'm sorry."

Giz straightens up, a brief nod to the hen, and walks back to his spot at the entrance. He watches as Fluttershy slowly runs a hoof along the hen's head, the bird settling down and resting. 

Fluttershy frowns as her hoof carefully moves next to the egg. She slides to the side a little; Hedge moves closer to get a better look as Fluttershy tries to pick up the egg. The shell cracks, thin lines of white and yellow seeping out. A tear rolls down Fluttershy's face, landing and mixing with the yolk.

"Mama? What's wrong?" Hedge asks, staring at the broken egg.

Fluttershy shakes her head, her voice straining as she eeks out, "You're too young, Hedge. Go play with your sisters."

"But Mama, I want to know." Hedge pushes her head against Fluttershy's leg, "What's wrong with Gander?"

Fluttershy sighs, "Gander is getting old, Hedge. Her body can't make strong eggs any more." Gander lowers her head even more, Fluttershy taking a small cloth and wiping up the remains of the egg.

"Why?"

Fluttershy sighs, "Nopony knows, Hedge. Nopony knows why we have to get old, why we all have to eventually pass on."

"You mean, why we die?"

Fluttershy nods, looking on as Gander's two young hens gather near. "Ponies have come up with reasons, but not even the Princesses know for sure."

"Oh." Hedge looks at the eggs in the basket, mouthing the words as she counts to herself. "The chickens, they come from eggs, right?"

"That they do, dear." Fluttershy takes the dirty cloth, wrapping it so the gooey section is in the center, and places it in the basket.

"Why do we eat the chickens?"

Fluttershy pauses, the normal din of chickens moving back and forth coming to a standstill, an eerie silence as the chickens stare at the two ponies. Fluttershy gives a nervous smile, "Um, Hedge, we don't eat the chickens."

"But we eat their eggs," Hedge says in  a firm voice, oblivious to the scratch of talon on wood, "How is that different?"

"Do you want the long answer or the short answer?"

Hedge stares at her dam, a hard look, her voice deeper to keep it from cracking, "Long answer."

Fluttershy settles down on the straw floor, the ring of a bell coming from the farmhouse and signalling dinner is ready. "The chickens, they are able to lay many more eggs than they need to sustain their numbers, to keep the number of chickens the same. Each hen can lay one egg a day, or so. Half of those eggs are hens, and half are roosters. The roosters we send to other farms, so they can start their own families." Fluttershy pauses, a deep breath as she knows exactly how many are sent to griffon chefs. "And the hens, a similar thing. Some we keep here, some we send to other farms so the ponies there can have their own eggs."

Fluttershy motions to Giz, the rooster watching her carefully, "However, if every egg each chicken laid became a chicken, we quickly would have too many chickens, and we wouldn't be able to feed and house all of them. So Giz, our head rooster, only mates with the hens at a certain time, and with certain hens. We leave the eggs of those hens alone, so they can grow into chickens. The eggs the other chickens make we use in baking. We do this because we haven't found a widely available, cost effective substitute. In essence, we trade protection and food to the chickens, and in return they give us the products of their bodies. Either of us could stop whenever they wanted, if they didn't like what was happening." Fluttershy smiles at her foal, "I know I used a lot of big words there. Did you understand?"

Hedge slowly nods, "Um, I think so. We give the chickens food and a home. They give us their eggs. No chicken has to, um, go hungry?" At Fluttershy's careful nod Hedge continues, "And everypony is okay with this."

Fluttershy nods, "That's correct, Hedge. Very good." She looks at the farmhouse, the sky starting to darken, "Are you getting hungry? I heard we have company today."

"Okay. Yes, I'm hungry." Hedge walks out, looking back at Fluttershy. The mare is staring at the wall behind Gander. "Mama?"

"Hurry along dear, I'll catch up." Hedge nods, pushing open the door to the coop and making her way to the farmhouse.

Fluttershy peers at the wood. The apple trees that had given their lives to build this chicken coop. Maybe some had been knocked down in a storm, others intentionally felled. The straw from the wheat, consumed by all to continue life. The eggs in her basket, inert fats and proteins and carbohydrates that, should a different hen been chosen, might have held life. She glances to Gander, the elder hen back to resting after her grown chicks have left and returned to their own nests.

Fluttershy walks to the entrance, a glance at Giz getting the rooster to follow her. They leave the coop, the door closing behind them; Fluttershy says, "Giz, are you happy here?"

Giz struts back and forth, "I am cock to many hens. I have struck a good bargain, as my cockerel did and his cockerel before him. Why do you ask?"

Fluttershy looks down, a hesitant, "I am... I am sorry if this offends you, but my stallion can eat animals. He does not have to, but it would be a great help if he had... if he had your permission to..."

Giz nods, looking over at the farmhouse. "I have seen this stallion of yours. He is kind to us." He turns, looking at Fluttershy, "She is of little use, and too old to molt again. If Gander approves, or any other hen at the same stage, then you have my permission. I expect he will need less eggs, should this be the case?" At Fluttershy's nod he continues, "Then I would like an increase in the number of chicks."

Fluttershy smiles, "I'll talk to Applejack about it, and they will likely live on other farms." Giz shrugs, moving back to the coop. He moves to Gander, a few low clucks that Fluttershy has difficulty making out.

Gander sits up a little more, struggling to her legs. She addresses Fluttershy, barely croaking out, "I have lived a long life. I have two good hens here to carry on my name. I am content." Gander lifts a wing, a few feathers left behind in the straw, "It would make me happy to be able to continue to provide, even if just one last time." The hen sighs, as best a hen can do, "And I would rather it be quick."

Fluttershy solemnly says, "Thank you, Gander. Um, meet us in the yard. Doug will be outside very soon." The chicken nods, slowly following behind as Fluttershy leaves the coop. Fluttershy's weighty steps echo in her ears as she glances back, seeing the lone chicken settle down near the outside door of the yard, the chicks all returning inside.

Fluttershy enters the farmhouse, only the clink of one set of hooves on the dishes from the dining room. Hedge is there, slowly eating the hay on her plate. The foal glances up at Fluttershy, giving a sad smile as she goes back to her food. Fluttershy grabs a sharp knife, hiding it under a wing as she continues along, spotting a slightly embarrassed Doug. Lyra is sitting in front of him in a very awkward position, her rump on the floor while her hind legs stick out in front of her. Doug is sitting on his knees, his arms rubbing the unicorn's withers. An earth pony she vaguely recalls as Bon-Bon, the filly all grown up, is sitting next to Lyra, an envious look on her face as the green unicorn loudly expresses her enjoyment through moans and grunts.

Fluttershy waits until the massage is over, still mulling over everything. Doug walks over, rubbing some of the oil off his hands as he says, "Hey, 'Shy; you look pensive."

"Yes. Come with me?" Doug follows Fluttershy outside, the two heading to the chicken coop. "Um, I was talking with Hedge about the chickens, and eggs, and it got me thinking. Doug, the chickens are okay with you..." She trails off, her mane hiding her anguished face.

Doug stops outside the door to the chicken coop, as he bends over, kneeling down and running his hand along her mane. The chickens inside the coop are chattering to each other, perhaps a bit loud for this time of day, but nothing out of the ordinary. Gander pushes the door open, sluggishly making her way to Doug and resting her neck and head in his hand. Doug stares at the chicken, then at Fluttershy, understanding dawning on his face, a low, "And you are okay with this?" Fluttershy gives a slight nod, though she still isn't looking at him. "Tell me about her, Fluttershy. What she was like."

Fluttershy takes a deep breath, her voice breaking as she says, "Gander was a good chick, raised with many of her sisters and brothers. She was one of three from that clutch that stayed here at Sweet Apple Acres, and is the last of them with us." Doug rubs Fluttershy's neck with one hand, the chicken giving a soft cluck, as he sighs heavily.

Fluttershy carefully rests a hoof on Doug's arm, "It's okay, Doug, she's ready." Fluttershy closes her eyes, a soft sob as she feels the motion next to her, a soft crack that silences the birds inside the coop for a brief second before the noise resumes.

The human stands, cradling the limp form in one arm as he leads the mare to one of the barns. He opens the door, a light flicking on, and the two make their way into the dug-out cellar. Fluttershy glances around at the empty space; the Apple family normally stores their cider in these basements, but increased demand has really cut back on how much space they need, only a few full barrels and few crates along the walls.

Fluttershy watches with morbid interest as Doug pulls out a table, a metal plate, and a large bowl. He sets the chicken, taking the knife from Fluttershy and draining the blood. "So, Prince Blueblood told me about the time he spent learning how to do this," Doug says, anything to break the dreary atmosphere. Fluttershy continues to watch, closer than she thought possible. But she would persevere.

"How he learned from the castle's griffon chefs. How he had to go through the entire process." Doug hands move as he talks, following his words. "Killing the chicken, plucking the feathers, removing the feet and the guts. How and where each part would be used. And the chefs, they enjoyed taking his disgust and forcing him to go through the motions, over and over and over until he was so used to it that it became normal. They challenged him, implied he was a coward when he thought he couldn't handle it. And so he stayed, and learned." Doug sighs, "Prince Blueblood enjoyed doing the same to me, with the rhoas." He motions with the knife towards a few of the empty preservation units, "And I learned from him, how to go through the entire process, just with a different source."

Fluttershy offers a quiet thanks to the chicken as Doug wraps the butchered flesh with some of the enchanted material, then places it in one of the preservation units. She watches as Doug replaces the units against the wall, the remains into another bag to be buried. She stares up at her stallion, a quiet, "I finally got your name." He flashes a forced smile, going back to the unhappy task of cleaning the area. "Please, Doug, don't tell Hedge. Not until she is older."

Doug nods, washing off his hands before grabbing the bag and a shovel. Fluttershy follows, a short walk to the edge of the farm. A short while later and the remains are buried, Fluttershy carving a small marker in the nearby tree. The two return to the farmhouse, Applejack waiting for them at the side door, the rest of the house quiet in the dark.

"Something happen, partner? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Doug nods, "You could say that. I'll tell the rest of the mares tomorrow morning, unless you really want to hear it earlier, but it isn't a happy tale." He glances past Applejack, "Lyra still here?"

"Nah, she said her goodbyes just after you left. Bon-Bon said something about you making good on that massage for her. Ah think Rarity got a time for her to come back." Applejack sighs, "Just like Pinkie feared. And Ah liked her, too."

"Well, can't win them all, I guess." Doug says, quietly leading Applejack and Fluttershy upstairs.