Friday, October 10, 2008

Roosters from Hell - Post 89

I was playing catch up reading my favorite blogs Friday evening, and had my "memory cells" stirred up by the post on Musings of a Ranch Wife, a fine storyteller who lives in New Mexico. So this whole post will make a little bit of sense, I invite you to first read her post, here, then come back to read my remembrance.

Not too long after we moved to Arkansas, my daddy acquired a batch of half-grown Bantam game chickens from one of his uncles. They were pretty things, and smaller than our regular chickens. "Little Mo" was the rooster, and he was a first cousin to Ranch Wife's "rooster from hell."
(Wikipedia photo -- Little Mo didn't look quite like this; he was more colorful,
 but this was the best photo I could find)

Our farm's outhouse was on the back side of the chicken yard, and you had to go through the chicken yard to use the facilities. Little Mo would attack anything that moved, and he had spurs a that were a good inch, or more, long. All of us had a few scars on our legs from being spurred at one time or another, but usually you could shoo him off before he did much damage. One morning, he jumped my mama, wouldn't "shoo," and tore up both her legs something terrible. She came in the house crying and bloody. He had made gashes in her poor legs that must have been 6" long. That was it! Unlike Ranch Wife's hero, I had no gun (probably couldn't have hit the broad side of the barn if I had one), but my brother's baseball bat was on the back porch. I grabbed it, ran to the chicken yard with hot-blooded murder on my mind and, screaming and hollering at this wicked little bird, committed rooster-cide. I do believe that is the most angry I have ever been in my whole life. I'm not proud of murdering him, though; it left me feeling pretty sick.

I remember that Daddy wasn't too happy that I had killed his game rooster, but didn't fuss at me very much after he saw Mama's legs. Mama was in her early 50's when this event occurred, and still had faint traces of the scars on her legs when she died at age 86.

23 comments:

Old Lady Lincoln said...

I have a feeling I would have done the same thing. Why on earth didn't they fence in the chicken yard so you didn't have to walk though to get to the outhouse. I probably would never have gone to the outhouse again. LOL

rhymeswithplague said...

You may have committed roostercide, but it was justifiable roostercide. I vote to acquit.

We didn't have to go through the chicken yard to reach the outhouse, but we did have to go past the silo and the pigpen where Lady Henrietta wallowed in the mud. I'm glad those days are over.

Ranch wife said...

I think you were brave and noble to defend your mama. I too agree to acquit.
Loved the story.

~M~

Ruth Hull Chatlien said...

Oh my, what a colorful story. That's a side of life I've never experienced, having always lived in towns or cities.

JC said...

WOW, what a story. Thanks for sharing it. Love Old Lady Lincoln's comment. LOL

Louis la Vache said...

Good for you, Pat! The little b@$t@rd deserved it!

Kappa no He said...

I just finished reading Kingsolver's book "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" and she talks about those crazy roosters! Scary!

cottonpicker said...

I do believe every child raised on a farm or ranch with chickens and roosters has stories of near death experiences with their roosters. Seems they all turn mean!

Hilary said...

A foul fowl...

nina said...

Yikes!
We've had chickens, but mostly hens.
One showy rooster made a ruckus each morning and was eaten by foxes within the year.
Even hens can be obnoxious--pecking shoelaces,....

Broken Y said...

Lord have mercy - if PETA gets ahold of you and Ranchwife's posts, we'll have Chicken Run 2! I love it! Hateful little beasts!!

Sandi McBride said...

My husband tells a story of the Tom Turkey from hell...everytime he got out of the car at his Aunt Laverne's house, this turkey would chase him around and round the house till he could take the dive up on the porch...he never chased anyone else, just Mac...but soft hearted thing that he is, he couldn't bear to eat one sliver of him that Christmas!
Great story...
Sandi

Gallicissa said...

Quite a story, Pat.
I leant a new word; 'rooster-cide'

afeatheradrift said...

Oh Pat, what a great story. I never knew Roosters could be so mean. I thought chickens were basically docile creatures. Lot I knew! I think I would have done as you did. It's not as if you can train the little beast to refrain from the attack!

Brazle's said...

Those Roosters really are the pits aren't they! You and Ranch wife need to put a book together..
"Meanest Roosters Around"
Love your blog and seeing you and your friends together for Card making! And those Muffins...look Delish!

TSannie said...

Been "attacked" by a wild turkey...not a rooster though.

You were a good defending daughter! Bet your mama was proud of you that day.

Marvin said...

Great story, Pat. Definitely a case of justifiable roostercide if I ever heard one.

My close encounters of the painful kind were with my grandpa's peacock. One of my uncles eventually wrapped a piece of pipe around that foul tempered bird's neck.

reluctantfarmchik said...

Man - what a beast! Makes me a little wary - we have 11 various roosters growing in our garage right now. Maybe I ought to be finding homes for them. Although if they have each other to fight with, maybe they won't have to attack humans! And wait. I won't have to pass them on my way to the privy either. Maybe my life WILL be different than what you report :-) Cool story!

Kahshe Cottager said...

This made me remember the time I was chased by the goose at my great-grandmother's farm. It was bigger than I was ... nobody ran for a bat, they picked me up put me on the other side of the fence and had a good laugh. That hurt more than the scare of the goose chasing me! Good on you for going for the bat!

david mcmahon said...

Made me grin, Pat!

Moannie said...

We don't call 'em Cock of the walk for nothing...you brave girl.
Totally not guilty, and a commendation for bravery.

Suldog said...

Banty roosters can be mean sons of bitches. I'm a city boy, so not many run-ins with them, but I had my hand ripped pretty good at a fair once when I was dumb enough to stick it inside a cage with one!

Snoopii717 said...

Hey I just found this cite on Google...and I have to tell you that I kind of know how she felt. I got attacked by a rooster this morning. I was walking my normal route to the bus stop and the roosters are always there but they've never done this before. This is what happened....I a was walking out of a path right by my house and the two roosters were standing on the opposite side of the road and (I don’t usually worry about them) once I passed them I heard little foot steps like running my way and before I could turn around the rooster jumped up and grabbed the back of my thigh then I screamed and he bounced off onto the ground and looked dead into my eyes I was so scared because he started walking towards me again...as I was running backwards and trying to scream as I was swinging my bag "trying" to shoo the little creature away it was one of the most scariest experience ever....if this ever happens again i will be forced to do the same thing you did (murder a rooster)........