Sidewinder.

Those damned chickens. Always stirring up dust. I slammed the window shut and walked outside to see what the big deal was. I stood on the wooden porch and looked down at it. So weathered and worn. Proof of a long, fruitful life. It creaked with every step I took. The breeze picked up and the chickens were nowhere within hearing range. Odd. I stepped off the porch and looked across the farm. The chickens were nowhere in sight. Its around dinner time, where the hell are they? The breeze brought a strange smell with it this time. Not quite like burning, but almost. And rain. Definitely a hint of rain. I scanned the farm, not sure of what I was looking for. And then I saw it. The reason the dust was being kicked up. The reason the chickens were missing. The reason the breeze had a hint of burning rain in it. Across the field was the beginnings of a tornado.