Justifiable Roostercide?

Anne Kimball

Life on the Funny Farm

As you may know if you follow along here regularly, I have a rooster named Big Daddy.

And he is evil incarnate.


 And it is quite possible that I have killed him.


 See, I was working in the barn, feeding and making some repairs to the gate and fixing up Annabelle's dog house and whatnot.


The rooster and hens were all behind me

you'd think by now I'd know better than to turn my back on him...

 as I was getting ready to lift the 50lb sack of chicken feed to pour into the hopper, when alls a sudden I felt a ripping pain along my butt and backs of my legs.


Well, quick as a cat, I turned and kicked.


If your backside is getting assaulted, kick first and ask questions later, I always say. You know what I'm saying, ladies. Can I get an amen?


Well I guess I kicked pretty darn hard. Bullseye.


Down went Big Daddy before he knew what hit kicked him. Not just down, but down flopping and rolling around upside down and squawking like he was dying.


Well. Maybe he was actually dying, but my lord in heaven, I never saw such carryings on.


And I was so mad at him for mauling me that I stormed out and stomped to the house to get some more tools that I needed. But by the time I got back to the barn I started feeling bad. I mean, I guess I should have thought what I was doing before kicking like that. And then I saw him lying there, still mostly upside down and not moving.


OHMYGODIVEKILLEDMYROOSTER!


But when I got closer, he cocked his head and fixed his evil eye on me.


Definitely not dead. And when I took a step closer, he rolled himself over and started flopping away like that chick that claims to have dystonia from a flu vaccination gone awry.

He got himself all the way across the coop to a quiet corner and just sat there looking very morose.
"You deserve it!" I shouted to him. "Attack me. Attack ME???!!! I have half a mind to kick you again."


But then a couple of the hens walked over to this semi-dead creature and started pecking at him on his bald places.


"Nooo! Get away from him! Shooo! Can't you see he's hurt? Leave the poor man alone you traitorous bi***es!"


And I ran at them to shoo them away, but Big Daddy got scared I was comin' for him, so he started trying to run away, too.

He looked so pathetic.


"You're an idiot! Can't you see I'm just trying to help you, you twisted bas***d? Oh, I wish you were DEAD!"


He came to a lopsided rest and started getting henpecked again immediately.


"Have you no MERCY?" I screamed at the hens while waving my arms like a lunatic. "Leave him be, leave him be, man down!"


I was starting to see a pattern. This would not do.


So I took Annabelle's old dog house that I had just disassembled, and placed the top portion over him to make a cozy little house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made a cozy little house for the damnable beast that nearly took my life!

Since it's all open in the front, I had to move it over so the opening would be up against the chicken wire wall that separates the Hen House from the Rabbit Shack. I wasn't about to pick him up. He'd eat my fingers soon as look at me. So I kind of slowly slid the dog house to where I needed it to be, with him inside it. But the melodramatic son of a b acted like he couldn't use his legs and he just kind of rolled along in the straw like a piece of flotsam.


"You don't fool me!" I screamed at him. "You'll get no pity. You brought this on yourself!" And I continued to slide the contraption along, with him flapping and rolling inside, silently pleading with me to free him from his prison. "No chance, mister."


I finally got it over to the wall, and I made sure he had good ventilation, access to food and water, comfortable bedding, and a safe place to recuperate where the hens wouldn't peck him to death. Of course, he immediately abandoned his pretense that he was nothing but a sack of bones and feathers, and he got up and started strutting around his new digs, plotting his escape, no doubt.


I need to do a Google search to see if I can get him a straight jacket and mask a la Hannibal Lechter. You know, one that's made just for roosters. Anyone know of a good source?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So although what I should have done with this demonic foul was wring his neck and put him in a soup pot, instead I made him a cozy little house.


I made him a nice little rooster rehab so he can recover and get his strength back and make another attempt at my life!

 

I am an enabler.

 

I am a rooster enabler.

 

And I need help.

 

 

 

 


 Image courtesy: squidoo.com

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