The rooster from Morón crowed, and communism began to tremble

In some place in the Caribbean, there was a farm where, for many years, the pigs were in charge.

The pigs were experts at talking a lot and eating even better. They always repeated the same thing: that the farm was running perfectly, that the animals lived happily, and that any hen that protested was either confused or manipulated by animals from other lands.

Meanwhile, the corn was scarce, the water trough was emptying, and the animals were struggling more and more.

It was like this for years… until one night, something changed.

On an old fence, amid the darkness of the farm, the famous Gallo de Morón stood.

It was no ordinary rooster. It was a rooster that had been observing the farm with suspicion for some time: too many speeches from the pigs and very little corn in the pen.

The rooster took a deep breath... and crowed.

But it wasn't the typical dawn song.

It was a different cock-a-doodle-doo.

A quiriquí that sounded of exhaustion, hunger, weariness... and also of freedom.

First, the hens responded. Then the horses neighed. The goats began to jump, the donkeys to bray, and even the neighborhood dogs joined in the commotion.

The pigs, nervous in the big house of the farm, said that it was nothing. That everything was quiet. That it was just a small commotion caused by confused animals.

But the pigs forgot an important detail.

The roosters crow loudly.

And the song of the Gallo de Morón crossed fences, paths, and pastures. It reached other farms where fat pigs also claimed that everything was fine while the pens remained empty.

And in many of those farms, the same murmur began to be heard:

"If the rooster crowed in Morón... it can also crow here."

The animals say that since that early morning, something changed in many farms across the region.

Because when a rooster truly crows..

No pig sleeps peacefully anymore.