Do I believe in the little people? Of course not. If Tinkerbell depends on me, she is dead meat… or maybe dead fairy dust.
But if they do exist, then they are like the rooster riders in my picture, exploiting the world in the same way the big old slow ones do.
They are not our inferiors or our superiors. They are us. They mirror us and our beliefs, our dreams… our nightmares, and all the things deep within us that could ever possibly go bump in the night.
Catch a Falling Star 
An old post with a favorite drawing.
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Mickey, the roosters I have been around would not take too kindly to those riders. I did come across a great name for a rooster when I was visiting an alpaca ranch in NC. She called the king of the chicken pen, “Elvis.” I thought that was cool. No fairies, but there were some screaming fans shouting something about “blue suede shoes.” Keith
The fairies in the picture are in no actual danger. The Princess knows magic, and the rooster is spellbound. Wasn’t there a cartoon movie by Don Bluth starring a rooster named Elvis? I can’t remember the name of it.