He took a sip of cold coffee as Princess Ida blinked herself awake and rose to her feet, stretching one yellow foot out behind her, then the other. Sikari smiled at the sight of his poultry diva, craning her feathered neck to stretch it out, too, making herself taller and more powerful. Princess Ida was the dominant hen, and he watched her ruffle her wing feathers, then settle them back into place, the simple motion bringing Yum-Yum, Peep-Bo, and the Women’s Chorus to their feet, where they all began scratching and pecking at the brownish grass, following Princess Ida’s lead. It reminded Sikari that all of nature had a pecking order, which insured stability.

He thought to himself, Stability will be restored once my pecking order is restored. That’s all. It’s that simple.

It made his decision for him and there was no time to delay. He set his coffee mug on the ground, reached into his moleskin pocket, extracted his cell phone, then pressed one letter. When the call was answered, he said into the phone, “Come to the coop. And bring your brother.” He closed the phone with a snap and re-pocketed it, his gaze falling on Princess Ida.

The hen looked back at him, with approval.

Ten minutes later, his twin sons stood before him, with identical half-smiles, and as always, the sight pleased him. They were part of the plan, too. He couldn’t say exactly that he loved them, for he traveled too much to know them, but he liked the notion that he had two such bright, active, good-looking sons. They were six feet tall and with their curly dark-blonde hair, round blue eyes, and confident grins, Archer and Harris were almost impossible to tell apart. They couldn’t have looked more different from Sikari, but of course, he wasn’t their biological father. He had bought them as babies on the backstreets of Prague; he had no idea where they had come from and it didn’t matter anyway. He had told them, his farm staff and the tutors who home-schooled them that he was their godfather, a dear friend of their deceased French parents because he knew that passed for exotic here in the boondocks.

“Aren’t you two cold?” Sikari asked, because neither wore coats. They were dressed in a way that people used to call preppy: turtlenecks, khaki pants and navy crewneck sweaters.