I listen to animals in the hope of learning something, every day.

Chickens have surprised me.

The chickens have their own Story Of The World, and it does not change from day to day.

Do not, they tell me, blame the economy.

Do not, they tell me, whine about publishing.

Do not, they tell me, blame my troubles on Wall Street. Or Washington. Or Democrats. Or Republicans.

Do not, they tell me, listen to their Story Of The World.

Every day, they say, we get up with the light. We look for food, do our work, live our lives.

We peck around.

In the shadow of the dog. The fox. The raccoon. The hawk and the weasel.

We do not blame fences. Or you. Or the nature of life.

That is Our Story Of The World. And yours.