Chance in the Coop

Every morning, Spike and Suzy helped collect the eggs. This morning, Little Thunder came along with a notebook and a very serious face.

"I am a scientist of chance," he announced.

Suzy tilted her head. "A what?"

"Someone who predicts what will happen," he said. "Watch. Will the sun come up tomorrow?"

"Certain," said Spike.

"Will a chicken lay a purple egg?"

"Impossible," giggled Suzy.

Little Thunder wrote both words down. "Now the tricky part. The middle words: unlikely, even chance and likely."

They peered into the egg basket. Inside were eight brown eggs and two white eggs.

"If I close my eyes and pick one," said Little Thunder, "what will I get?"

Suzy counted. "Eight out of ten are brown. So brown is likely."

"And white is unlikely," added Spike. "But not impossible."

Little Thunder picked. It was white! "Unlikely things still happen sometimes," he said, a little surprised.

Next, Spike fetched the farm spinner from the shed. It had two equal halves: one painted with a hen, one with a rooster.

"Hen or rooster?" asked Suzy.

"Even chance," said Spike. "Half and half."

They spun it ten times. Hen, rooster, rooster, hen, hen, hen, rooster, hen, rooster, rooster. Five each.

"Exactly even!" cheered Little Thunder.

"That doesn't always happen," Spike warned. "Spin it a hundred times and it should get close to half, but rarely perfect."

So they spun it a hundred times. The chickens gathered round to watch, clucking at every click. Fifty-two hens. Forty-eight roosters.

"Close to even," said Suzy, scribbling the tally.

As they walked back to the farmhouse, a single raindrop landed on Little Thunder's nose. He looked up at the grey clouds.

"Chance of rain?" he asked.

Spike sniffed the air. "Likely. Very likely. Run!"

They raced to the verandah just as the downpour began, laughing and shaking water from their coats.