<center>![worm2.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nickydee/23wWyUPMAkcckuAcv5nAXt1rX4oKcrEQVphAsmcnFFUWpfG59HHoparuuvPC2WS3R7Jdu.jpeg)
<sub>Photo by @deerjay - [original source here](https://ecency.com/hive-106444/@deerjay/feathered-friends-smap-contest-entry-a-few-funny-feathered-friends)</sub>
# The Worm That Turned</center>
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Robin was an early riser.

It was her favourite thing to do.

To get up just as the sun began to peak over the mountains nearby, while all was quiet and still.

She would immediately, careful not to wake any other bird, head to the woods nearby to scratch in the still full of morning dew dirt for juicy fresh worms. There was nothing, as far as Robin was concerned, better than a chilled, fat juicy worm for breakfast.

Now I don't want to sound mean and I never talk badly or gossip about birds that aren't around to have an honest conversation...

but it was well known, by the other birds in the area, that Robin was a little bit greedy.

I say this because by the time the rest of the birds rose for their sunny breakfasts, most of the worms were already in Robin's fuller than comfortable stomach. Not many were left for the other birds and, at times, some of them had to wait until sunset to satiate their hunger. For it was only when the shadows lengthened and the earth cooled, that more worms would make their way closer to the surface again, ready to be plucked for hungry young tummies and communal celebrations of dinner.

Not Robin though. Robin always had extra more than enough.

She prided herself on being an early bird. We all know what the early bird gets and Robin would make it quite clear to any bird who complained about her early morning antics by reminding them. One day, however, when Robin rose just before sunrise and made her way down to the nearby woods, as the sun began to peak over the mountains nearby, she found hardly any worms to be had.
![hr.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nickydee/48FDjDALfbUj8X8dqBhS2y36RczEaBtJvTR5FHnu1Xb8oSs4UjxVdcFsBvNSjNn19J.png)
What the birds weren't aware of yet, was that the unusually hot summer had driven the worm colony further afield and deeper into the cool forest. And as Robin had continued to stuff herself with as many worms as she could, the pickings had steadily dwindled until they were slim to say the least.

Robin frantically scratched around her usual spots, hungrily searching for her breakfast. It was just as she'd managed to find only one single particularly long, particularly fat worm and was holding it in her beak, that a few of the other birds came along.

"Robin!" screeched Rachel, mother of two hungry young 'uns and determined to feed them as planned, "It's just not fair anymore, Robin! You're going to need to learn to share if you want to keep coming around for tea at my place every Thursday. I've had quite enough of this Robin!" went on the angry mother bird. "You've gotten here early and taken more than your fair share the whole summer. This simply has to stop!"

With this final order, Rachel launched herself at Robin, grabbed the tail of the worm and pulled as hard as she could to dislodge it from the greedy Robin's beak, while the rest of the birds looked on in stunned silence. But Robin refused to let her particularly long, particular fat worm go. She dug her feet into the earth, leaned back and pulled as hard as she could in return. And with her sudden efforts, the worm was snapped in two.

Not one to be so easily defeated, Rachel dropped her half and launched another attack. She then grabbed the half of the still wriggling worm in Robin's beak. But, not one to give in so easily either, Robin redoubled her efforts and again... the worm was torn in two as the fight continued. On and on this went, while the other birds backed fearfully away from the dusty endeavours, until a circle had formed around the two squabbling females and small pieces of the worm lay scattered all around them.

Eventually, worn out and breathless, Robin and Rachel sat down... panting and trying to catch their breath as the birds looked on uneasily.

Nobody dared move a feather.
![hr.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nickydee/48FDjDALfbUj8X8dqBhS2y36RczEaBtJvTR5FHnu1Xb8oSs4UjxVdcFsBvNSjNn19J.png)
After some time, when Robin and Rachel had recovered enough to rise again, a small voice was heard. 

"Mommy, look at all of the worms!" piped up little Joey, the smallest of Rachel's nestlings.

A murmur of wonder echoed through the quietly standing flock, as they looked at the ground and saw the now plentiful worms squirming in the dirt around them. For what the birds also had no idea of, was that this particular colony of worms had been cross bred with [the famous three-banded panther worm](https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/20/science/worm-regeneration.html), in attempts by local scientists to find regeneration methods for humans. As they looked on in awe, the worms continued to regenerate and grow before their very eyes. Until every tiny piece had become a particularly long, particularly fat worm all of it's own.

There was now more than enough to go around and there would be no hungry stomachs grumbling in the flock ever again.
![hr.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nickydee/48FDjDALfbUj8X8dqBhS2y36RczEaBtJvTR5FHnu1Xb8oSs4UjxVdcFsBvNSjNn19J.png)
The moral of the story?

Yes. The early bird catches the worm, but it's only by sharing that more is (re)generated. 😊❤️🚀

![hr.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nickydee/48FDjDALfbUj8X8dqBhS2y36RczEaBtJvTR5FHnu1Xb8oSs4UjxVdcFsBvNSjNn19J.png)