Post last updated: March 18th, 2019
The last time I called for eggs, Mrs. Beekeeper told me that Junior got rid of the hens to go mountain climbing or some such event. I don’t remember, exactly. She mentioned that Junior kept the rooster because it was “a good guard dog.”
I almost choked. I’m sure I gasped. That rooster’s inner clock is on the fritz and he crows not only at sunrise but all day long. However, the Law of Circumstance dictates that the very moment you need the rooster to scare off a burglar, is the moment he’s going to cock his head and give the burglar his stupid look.
With the air conditioning on, I can’t hear the rooster most of the time. When I do, I go to YouTube and crank up Martin Hurkens. He sings You Raise Me Up better than either Josh Groban or Susan Boyle.
After Junior got rid of the hens, he gave the rooster the run of the neighborhood which is only fair. You can’t lock up a rooster all by his lonely. It’s not – what is the chicken equivalent of “humane?” Chickenane? Henane? Roostermane? I dunno. You can tell me later.
I’ve seen that rooster in the middle of the road, two doors down, and all the way down at Mr. Golfcart’s. I’ve seen him chasing behind a neighbor’s riding lawn mower. I’ve seen him poking around in the grass in our yard which is okay because he leaves no evidence. However, he leaves a lot of evidence when he does his rooster scratching in our driveway outside the gate.
The driveway and the crowing condemned him. Despite having no authority over his future, I nominate him a Crockpot Rooster.