File1, 2, & 3 for mcalvelli:



Roosters can usually be differentiated from hens by their striking
plumage of long flowing tails and shiny, pointed feathers on their
necks (hackles) and backs (saddle), which are typically of brighter,
bolder colours than those of females of the same breed. However, in
some breeds, such as the Sebright chicken, the rooster has only
slightly pointed neck feathers, the same colour as the hen's. The
identification can be made by looking at the comb, or eventually from
the development of spurs on the male's legs (in a few breeds and in
certain hybrids, the male and female chicks may be differentiated by
colour). Adult chickens have a fleshy crest on their heads called a
comb, or cockscomb, and hanging flaps of skin either side under their
beaks called wattles. Collectively, these and other fleshy
protuberances on the head and throat are called caruncles. Both the
adult male and female have wattles and combs, but in most breeds these
are more prominent in males. A muff or beard is a mutation found in
several chicken breeds which causes extra feathering under the
chicken's face, giving the appearance of a beard. Domestic chickens
are not capable of long distance flight, although lighter birds are
generally capable of flying for short distances, such as over fences
or into trees (where they would naturally roost). Chickens may
occasionally fly briefly to explore their surroundings, but generally
do so only to flee perceived danger.

-- Wikipedia article on chickens


Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

-- Star Spangled Banner


October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the
castle.  Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds
among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though
it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny
Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy.
The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her
whole head was on fire.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on
end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's
pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for
regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry
was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before
Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and
splattered with mud.

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session.
Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for
themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They
reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs,
shooting through the air like missiles.

-- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, J.K. Rowling

No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...