It wasn't long after the foul penal colony began before the whole damn flock escaped and ran amok throughout the 'hood.
They took to random garden sabotage and committing other acts of gang violence. I really didn't mind the fact that they totally annihilated most of my pseudo-maintained gardens in search of food, or the fact that they developed a preference for roosting in my loquat tree at night, because it gave me countless hours of free entertainment observing them as they went about the business of being chickens.
One thing was clear: Who the poor bastard was that held the prestigious title of "End of pecking order." There was this one chicken-shit, beat-to-hell rooster who did his damndest to stay out of harm's way with the other birds. In contrast to him, way at the other end of the order was always a very proud, confident, finely-feathered fellow, the cock of the walk who would defy anything, everyone, and to his own demise any dog he foolishly encountered in the rampaging of backyards.
The loss of El' Presidente' always worked out okay because there was another fine specimen of a bird eager to fill the vacated position.
Slowly but surely, the flock was whittled down to one lowly rooster, you guessed it- the little chicken-shit one. Because he grew up in a world of constant fear he was quite cautious. He KNEW in his little chicken-brain that any one approaching him surely meant to inflict pain and suffering, he never trusted anything well enough to stick around and challenge it.
He is about six years old now. His feathers are gorgeous! He hangs out at the other end of our dead-end street so my husband and I don't have to wake up to the melodious morning song he cuts loose with every day. I have listened to neighbors complain about him and threaten to have him captured and carried away.
However, as you can plainly see, he seems to be avoiding everyone just fine.
12 comments:
Great story, I really liked this one.
Hey you~ Thanks!
Wow--thats like one of those great fairy tales you tell kids--but its true!!!
~Becky
you should write and illustrate a children's book...
HOWDY!!!!!!!
Suzanne how are things with you waaaay up there?
a story of survival in the animal kingdom...nice.
Things are finally starting to thaw...Am I ever sink of winter....bahhhh arghhhhgh...I'm even thinking of throwing my ugly winter boots out in the trash. How are you doing??? I love the rooster story and I truly believe that you could write a book about his story :)
ohhh and I recently broke my glasses so I meant sick and not sink...LOL
A living example of the old saying, "discretion is the better part of valor."
I'm always rooting for the under-rooster, anyway. Does he have a name?
-CG
That is such a great story, and all the better for being true. Makes me wonder if there isn't some benefit to being a pacifist.
:) Thank you for the compliments!
I think each of the neighbors have their own name for him... I have heard him frequently called "Phantom."
I just call him Mr. Rooster for the lack of feeling creative about it.
One thing that I find entertaining (as I really don't talk a lot to my neighbors and enjoy making them take pause)...
He hangs out primarily in two yards, they are across the street from each other which means Mr. Rooster spends a lot of time crossing the street. Almost every morning on my way to work I encounter him casually strutting from one side to the other and have to sit in my car waiting for him to do so. When he finally gets to the side, I raise my hands up in the air and holler out the car window to him: "WHY the HELL do YOU do THAT?!" then drive on.
If there happens to be a neighbor out in their yard within ear-shot I always get a look of "freak!"
*grin*
Jane, that is a tough call... :)
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