The Saga of the Chicken

Back story: When I first arrived at my homestead last January, one random morning Tate Nicky asked me how I had slept, being the conscientious and generous man that he is. I commented on the fact that the roosters crowed at 3 and 4 in the morning and that they were directly outside my window. He apologized, which was a nice gesture considering that there is little one can do about crowing roosters. Neigh, that evening we had traditional chicken. Everyone asked if I enjoyed it, and I said that I did. I noticed it to be a little tough, but one doesn’t comment on that when he is in my position. Everyone was extremely happy. It was the chicken that had been giving me problems the evening previous.

Fast forward to present day. The cartoons lied to us. Roosters always jump up on the top of the barn just as the sun is cresting the horizon, welcoming the day with their melodious call and alerting the people that another day is upon us. In reality, roosters are mean, spiteful creatures that would peck your eyes out as soon as look at you. They crow at all hours of the night and if they hear a rooster from a neighboring farmstead, God help your night’s rest. My particular pair finds it amusing, I assume, to set up shop directly outside my window, and there is absolutely nothing that can be done. I tried putting g large rocks to disturb their area, and they said thank you for the perches. I tried getting out of bed in the night and shooing them and they come back. I even tried halfhearted attempts at sicing the dog on them, but he’s a coward. There is nothing that can be done about them. Pull the pillow over your head and hope that they get bored with there game.