The Fowlest of Experiences

“I'm the pussycat. That doesn't make me a wimp Mom. I don't know what all the fuss is about anyway. It's a chicken. A CHICKEN.”

“Last week that is what I was saying. I learned my lesson. Do you remember that movie True Grit?”

“Yes.” Dobby answers.

“There is a reason the baddest hombre was called “Rooster”.”

 

“Sorry Mom. I'm not buying it.” Dobby declares.

“Let me tell you what happened and we'll see how you feel about it. Your Aunt Bridget lives next door to someone who had two roosters. The neighbor lets them run free. The roosters have decided that Aunt Bridget's yard is part of their um...hood. If you come into their territory they attack. The other day, Aunt Bridget told me one of the roosters was gone. It had gotten killed. I thought one of them being gone was a good thing, the other rooster would be a little bit less “cocky” now. Grandma and Aunt Bridget told me the surviving rooster had actually gotten more aggressive. I did not believe them. Both of them were just being “girly” about the whole thing. I would look at the rooster in the right way he would know I wasn't scared of him and that would be it. The next time I stopped by Aunt Bridget's I parked in her driveway knowing that there was a positive way to handle this rooster. The last rooster I encountered at the farm was cocky as can be with a fence in between him and me. Especially when I was walking away. I was confident this would not be different. Confident and on a mission. On a mission to be the kind of daughter Dad would be proud of. A woman that remained unflustered by some random, aggressive cock.  An independent and self sufficient woman.  A woman..."

“MOM! Focus. Quit skipping around the May pole.” Dobby says.

“There's a May pole, in February? Ouch! That was my toe you just bit!”

“Fo-cus! And I'm supposed to wonder how a chicken got the upper hand.” Dobby says rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, I parked at Aunt Bridget's looking around the yard before I got out of the car. No rooster.

  I thought to myself. 'That bird knew someone was on their way over that wouldn't put up with his crap. He better hide.' I decided to go pick up Aunt Bridget's mail. I walked down the drive-way, removing the mail from the box.  When I turned around to head back to the house there he was standing in front of my car's back bumper. It was exactly half way between me and the front door of the house. The rooster raised his head and stared at me with his eye. Daring me to come closer. I returned his stare, making sure he saw that I had two eyes not one eye on each side of the head therefore establishing myself as the superior animal. I walked slowly yet purposefully toward the car aiming for the side opposite the rooster invading his “hood” for as brief a time as possible. The closer I got the cockier he got. 

  Apparently parking my car in his territory makes it his car for as long as he wants it. I got past him without much trouble. The rooster postured and crowed a lot. He wanted me to fall or cower so he could really hit me hard. I never turned my back on him or fell. I just walked, backwards. Quickly.  The rooster came at me faster and faster. When he was within a foot (claw?) of me I broke and ran for the front door. I wedged myself between the front door and the screen door. The rooster followed. When he saw where I was he slowly strutted by giving me a one-eyed glare.  But then, when I felt safe like the crisis was averted, I did it.”

“Did what Mom?” Dobby asks.

“I stooped to the rooster's level. As he was walking away, I said, “You think you're a bad ass don't you? Stupid cock.”

“You just had to do it didn't you?”

“I totally egged him on.” Mom says, looking down ashamed.

“He came back, jumped on the step ready to strike.” I pushed the doorbell with left hand and knocked with the right, calling. “Bridget. BRIDGET. BRIDG-ET!!!” After Aunt Bridget opened the front door and I was safe the rooster went for my car. I'm telling you, that is one bad hombre Dobby.”

“Did you ever think of doing this, Mom?” Dobby asked, snapping his foot pads. Mom and Dobby were taken back to Aunt Bridget's front porch. Mom is wedged between the screen and front doors with her back to the door, freezing. Dobby is standing behind the rooster, warm and stylish in his outlaw hat and brown leather duster. Dobby holds a paw up, a low crack is heard and the rooster falls over starting to smoke.

“Dobby! What did you do?”

“I fixed the problem. I used a taser on him. Now you're safe. We have fried chicken. Would you like a leg or a wing?”

Message from Dobby:

*No animals were tased or harmed during the writing of this blog.  We do not encourage or condone this behavior.  

  One human was bit on the toe.  But she had it coming.  Seriously.