The Oz Series
Chapter 50
Part of the Ozma of Oz: The Land of Ev and the Nome King arc.
What happens
A strange noise—"Kut-kut-kut, ka-daw-kut!"—awakens Dorothy at daybreak under a clear, sunny sky. She had been dreaming she was back in the Kansas barn-yard among calves, pigs, and chickens, and at first imagines she is there. Recognizing the sound as a hen cackling, she opens her eyes to see through the coop slats the now-calm blue ocean and remembers she is a waif of the storm adrift on an unknown sea. A small, sharp, distinct voice explains it has just laid an egg, and Dorothy discovers a yellow hen squatting in the opposite corner of the coop. The hen recounts clinging to the corner with claws and beak when the coop blew from the ship, nearly drowning in the washing water, and now feeling somewhat better after the sun dried her feathers and she laid her morning egg.
Dorothy asks how the hen is able to talk, having thought hens could only cluck and cackle. The yellow hen answers that she clucked and cackled all her life and never spoke a word before that morning, but when Dorothy asked a question it seemed the most natural thing to answer, and she has kept on speaking like a human. Dorothy notes that in the Land of Oz many animals talk, but the ocean is far from Oz. The hen anxiously asks about her grammar, and Dorothy assures her she does very well for a beginner, which comforts the hen, who recalls the red rooster praising her cluck and cackle as perfect.
Dorothy grows hungry at breakfast time with no breakfast; the hen offers her egg, which she does not care to hatch, explaining she only hatches eggs in a snug nest with a baker's dozen—thirteen, a lucky number for hens. Dorothy cannot possibly eat the egg unless cooked, but thanks her. The hen explains she lays a fresh egg every morning except when moulting, out of pride and the need to cackle afterward to be happy. Dorothy falls silent, finding the yellow hen some company though it is dreadfully lonely on the ocean.
The hen flies up to perch on the topmost slat and exclaims that they are not far from land, in a direction they seem to be drifting toward, expecting to reach dry land before noon. Dorothy is delighted, since her feet and legs are still wetted by sea-water through the slats. The approaching land shows a broad beach of white sand and gravel, several rocky hills behind it, and beyond them a strip of green trees marking a forest, but no houses or sign of people. Dorothy hopes to find food, it being long past breakfast. When she asks why the hen does not eat her egg, since her food need not be cooked, the hen indignantly denies being a cannibal.
Dorothy apologizes and asks the hen's name; the hen replies "Bill," a boy's name, explaining that when first hatched no one could tell whether she would be a hen or rooster, so the little boy at the farm called her Bill and made a pet of her as the only yellow chicken in the brood; when she grew up without crowing or fighting, he never changed the name, and everyone knew her as Bill. Dorothy declares it wrong and proposes calling her "Billina," adding "eena" to make it a girl's name; the hen does not mind, so long as she knows the name means her. Dorothy introduces herself as Dorothy Gale.
The hen advises waiting a few minutes rather than wading ashore. Before long the wooden coop grates gently on the sandy beach, ending the dangerous voyage. The yellow hen flies to the sands while Dorothy climbs over the high slats; safe ashore, Dorothy draws off her wet shoes and stockings and spreads them on the sun-warmed beach to dry, then watches Billina pick-pecking in the sand and gravel for breakfast. Billina reports finding fat red ants, sand-bugs, and occasionally a tiny crab, calling them sweet and nice, which shocks Dorothy, who objects to eating live things and bugs. Billina retorts that live things are fresher and more wholesome than dead ones, and that humans eat lambs, sheep, cows, pigs, and even chickens; Dorothy answers they cook theirs, but Billina points out that Dorothy eats chickens that eat bugs, making her just as bad. This makes Dorothy thoughtful and almost takes away her appetite.
Near the water's edge, Billina sticks her bill deep into the sand, draws back shivering, and cries that she struck metal that nearly broke her beak. Dorothy dismisses it as a rock, but Billina insists she knows the different feel of metal. To prove herself right, Dorothy digs at the spot Billina indicates and pulls out a large golden key—old but still bright and of perfect shape. Billina cackles in triumph. Dorothy judges it pure gold, hidden in the sand a long time, and wonders how it came there and what it unlocks; the hen cannot say. Seeing no house nearby, Dorothy reasons every key must fit a lock with a purpose, perhaps lost by someone who wandered the shore. She puts the key in her dress pocket, draws on her sun-dried shoes and stockings, and tells Billina she will look around for some breakfast.