If you asked the people of Dry Creek whether cowboys still existed, they would say yes - but not with a straight face.

Modern cowboys, as it turned out, spent a surprising amount of time staring at their phones, arguing about diesel prices, and Googling things, like “Can chickens eat hot Cheetos?”

On a bright Tuesday morning, Colt Wheeler - cowboy, part-time ranch hand, and full-time overconfident decision-maker - stood in the middle of the ranch yard holding a five-gallon bucket and a deeply flawed plan.

“Okay,” he said confidently to the chickens, “listen up.”

The chickens did not listen up.

There were twenty-seven of them. Technically there were supposed to be twenty-five, but two had appeared mysteriously last winter and nobody had asked questions. Chickens had a way of expanding their population like rumors at a small-town barbecue.

Colt cleared his throat. “Today, we’re introducing organization.”

One of the chickens screamed.

Not clucked. Screamed.

Colt ignored it.

Behind him, leaning against the fence and drinking gas-station coffee, stood his cousin Wade. He had the relaxed posture of a man who knew something terrible was about to happen but had no intention of preventing it.

“So,” Wade said, “just to be clear… your plan is to train the chickens.”

“Yes.”

“To go into the coop.”

“Yes.”

“On command.”

Colt nodded proudly.

Wade took a long sip of coffee. “Alright,” he said. “I’m gonna watch.”

Now, in Colt’s defense, the Internet had made it sound easy. There had been a video of a cheerful woman in overalls that had waved a red cup and all her chickens had run neatly into a coop like tiny feathery soldiers.

Colt had watched it dozens of times.

But he had also skipped the part where she explained the process.

Instead, he stepped forward and lifted the bucket.

“Okay, chickens!” he yelled. “Roll call!”

The chickens panicked immediately.

Twenty-seven birds exploded across the yard like popcorn in a microwave. One flew directly into a wheelbarrow. Another sprinted between Colt’s legs with the determination of a criminal escaping prison.

“Alright,” Colt said quickly. “New strategy.”

Wade didn’t move. Instead, he took another longgg sip of his coffee.

A chicken hopped onto the hood of Wade’s truck and started pecking holes into it.

Colt frantically started running around and knocked over a bucket.

Inside were corn kernels.

“Food time!” he announced.

This seemed to work.

Every chicken in the yard instantly turned and sprinted toward him.

“See?” Colt said proudly.

Five seconds later, twenty-seven chickens dogpiled him.

Colt disappeared in a tornado of feathers.

The bucket catapulted into the air.

Corn rained down like agricultural confetti.

The chickens lost their collective minds.

Wade watched the scene while making another cup of coffee.

A rooster flapped onto Colt’s back, looking for more corn.

“Wade!” Colt yelled from the ground. “Help!”

Wade took another very long sip of his hot coffee.

“I’m moral support.”

“GET THEM OFF!!”

Wade finally pushed off the fence and walked over.

He gently picked up the bucket of corn.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s try something simple.”

He shook the bucket once.

“C’mere, idiots.”

The chickens immediately followed him straight into the coop.

All twenty-seven of them.

Colt sat up slowly, covered in corn and betrayal.

“How did you do that?” he demanded.

Wade shrugged.

“Been feeding them for three years.”

Colt stood, brushing feathers off his shirt.

“Well,” he said defensively, “they didn’t need to tackle me.”

From inside the coop came a loud BWAARK.

Wade glanced over.

“That one might’ve been personal.”

Colt pointed at the rooster.

“That bird’s got an attitude.”

“Yeah,” Wade said. “That’s Kevin.”

Colt blinked.

“You named the rooster Kevin?”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“Why?”

Wade looked at Kevin thoughtfully.

“Because he acts like a Kevin.”

Kevin stared back with the quiet confidence of a chicken that knew he could win a fight.

Colt sighed.

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow we train them to come when I call.”

Wade laughed so hard he had to lean on the fence again.

And inside the coop, Kevin quietly began conspiring a plan against Colt.