Tales of the Rooster

Yes, that is our rooster in the cage. This little bugger proved hard to get rid off, but we've finally arrived at the last chapter in the Rooster Chronicles! After I put him up for grabs on our blog, we Shane's mom and dad (who have a farm) offered to take him off our hands. We gladly accepted and Laura Lynne made a special trip the second week in June to pick up the rooster (and visit her grandkids, too). However, she went home empty handed because we couldn't catch the little stinker. After an hour of coercing, all we had was one full rooster. Though his brain is the size of a pea, he knew enough to eat the bread crumbs but not get in the cage. Shane returned home from work disappointed to see that we still had a rooster, but quickly concocted a backup plan. Ryan and Mandy would be going over the next weekend to visit Mom and Dad, and gladly agreed to Rooster Transport Duty. Shane also informed me that we'd gone about the rooster wrangling all wrong and he'd take care of it next time.

We made plans to meet Ryan and Mandy for breakfast Saturday morning so we could hand off the rooster. Friday night rolls around and I mention to Shane that I think we should try to catch the rooster...no problem he says, he'll take care of it in the morning. Saturday morning rolls around, and I wake up to see Shane trying to herd the rooster into the open garage door. I quickly head out to help, reverting to my "if you feed it, it will come" strategy. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking...we're supposed to meet Ryan and Mandy in 15 minutes. Time isn't the only thing running out-Shane is pretty much on his last straw at this point. Pretty soon, we're both chasing the rooster around the yard. Any damage the chicken had done to the flower beds was beginning to seem nominal given what my husband was doing as he tore through them in hot pursuit. Next thing I know, I'm standing back laughing (all of you wives out there now that it is not a good idea to laugh at a husband who's already mad) as Shane tears after the chicken with a broom. The intent is no longer to catch the chicken, rather kill it as dead as you can kill a chicken with a broom.

The rooster decides he's had enough and barrels across the road into the brush. Now let me tell you a little bit about this brush. This is not a few grass clumps under some trees-it's the kind of brush that is so thick you can't see daylight through it. Combine that with the fact that the county had just mowed the easement and what you get is literally a green wall. That did little to phase Shane-he ran straight into it. You know the Wily E. Coyote cartoons, where he runs through a brick wall and leaves a perfect outline in the wall? I kid you not, that's exactly what it looked like! Every once in a while I would see a broom poke out of the brush and hear a gorilla-like growl. After Shane re-emerged from the hole he'd created in the brush, he stormed in the house muttering something about getting a gun. (There's me on the grass-trying to catch my breath I'm now laughing so hard...) For the next two hours he brainstormed ways to catch and kill the rooster. All the while, the rooster was safely nestled in the brush cock-a-doodle-doing away. Luckily Shane's Mom called at just the right time and pleaded for the rooster's life. Shane agreed to let him live.

The following week, Laura Lynne came over again. This time we had the sense to leave the garage open, so the rooster did what roosters do best-he crawled up in the rafters and roosted. The next morning, Laura Lynne pushed a step ladder right underneath him, grabbed him by the leg, shoved him in the crate, and took him home to a happy harem of hens. And that's the end of our rooster story!