advertisement Henery Hawk: Gee, Pop. I don't know what's the matter with me. The trouble's in my tummy. I crave something and I don't know what it is. Henery's Dad: Well, Henery, you're a big boy now. We'd better have a little talk. Henery Hawk: Okay, Pop. What do you wanna know? Henery's Dad: You see, Henery, your mother and I are outcasts. Hated and hunted because of what we are... chicken hawks. And you - you, Henery - you're a chicken hawk too. And like all chicken hawks, you crave to eat... a chicken. Henery Hawk: Eat a chicken? Is that bad? That's for me. Here chick, chick, chick, chick, chick! Here chick, chick, chick, chick, chick! Foghorn Leghorn: You lose something - I say, did you lose something, kid? Henery Hawk: I'm a chicken hawk. I'm after my first chicken. Foghorn Leghorn: A chicken, eh? I'm a horse - I say, I'm a horse myself. [Trots and whinnies] Foghorn Leghorn: But I've seen a chicken - I say, I've seen a chicken around here - Pay attention, sonny - somewhere. Chicken? Chicken. Oh, yes! [Points at dog] Foghorn Leghorn: There's a chicken - I say, there's a chicken for you - Boy doesn't pay attention. Nice four legged chicken. Go on over - I say, go on over and taste him, kid. You'll like him. Henery Hawk: Are you coming quietly, or do I have to muss ya up? Henery Hawk: [Dragging the horse, the dog and Foghorn Leghorn out of the barn] One of these...I say one of these, has got to be a chicken!