A Cock Fight, A Day in the Life of a Farmer’s Wife, Day 8

Birds crowed and dove at an unseen enemy. Loud enough to rouse us out of in bed after just finishing our first cup of coffee, we peaked out the window.

“What’s all the ruckus about, guys?”

We noticed the cat. He toated a small bird in his mouth. Tom sprayed the predator with a water bottle. Kitty dropped the bird who sat stunned.

“It’s a cat eat bird kind of world.”

After the bird drama, I ventured outside to feed our neighbors dog, cat, hens (who are caged), and a rooster who wanders the yard aimlessly singing lonely rooster songs . He’s a surly looking creature. Once, he had a harem of hens but they died. Now he’s a bachelor.

Everyone knows that hens are all called ladies. I called to them as they cooed and pecked. I summoned the rooster. We’d gotten along famously until then.

“Hello Sir!” I called happily.

Sir must have mistook my greeting for a threat. He charged me, jumped, and kicked me with his whatever you call rooster feet. Shocked, I yelled. He continued jumping and kicking. I called for Sam. He idled a safe 20 feet away.

“Tom! Help! The rooster is attacking me!” I saw Tom in the distance working on our soil blocks, but his head didn’t even turn.

Desperate, I took off my $5 Dollar General Store shoe. I smacked the rooster who responded with more kicks. I backed up and swung three or four times. Undeterred, the rooster kicked again–kicking my shoe out of my hand.

Kung-fu Rooster.

Finally, he backed off and I stopped sweating.

“How’d you make out with the rooster?” Tom asked.

“You saw him and didn’t help me? I called you when he attacked me!”

“I did notice until after the altercation was complete.” Tom smiled. “You’ve got to toughen up.”

At that point, I wished I’d had my shoe to throw at him. But then I laughed. He felt a little bad when I pulled my Bermuda shorts up to reveal two small wounds.

“I’m bleeding. You happy?”

We laughed again. Who knew a small farm could be such a treacherous place?

“Carry a stick next time,” Tom advised.

“Or heavier shoes.”

Tom put the rooster away that night.

Rooster Sir just may be fasting for the rest of the week.

I think he needs to toughen up.

But then, who likes a tough bird?

Got something to say? Go for it!