The Rooster from Hell

[JimH52]

It wasn't long after breakfast on Christmas morning that I cut the string holding the boots together and slipped them on my feet. Proudly walking back and forth in our living room, I actually tried different gaits attempting to accentuate my stride in the new red boots.

"Maw, I'm going outside!" I shouted to my mother as I hopped down our rear steps.

I ran swiftly to our well top and began to kick clumps of snow into the yard with all the strength a seven year old could manage. I was amazed at the amount of snow I was able to lift with these boots. It took two, maybe three minutes to completely clear the well top with the magnificent red boots. Could it be that these boots possessed some magical quality?

I jumped down from the well top and marched with a lofty step, passing the boxwoods into the side yard near our chicken house. Dad had let the chickens out earlier that morning, and I had hardly noticed the big red rooster who had begun to walk towards me.

I stood there, almost defiantly, glaring into the yard and the virgin snow. I was certain that with the new red boots on my feet, I would soon be successfully exploring the uncharted passages in the forest that surrounded our house. Life was filled with new and wonderful visions of adventure.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I caught the glimpse of a red flash coming towards me. The 'clip, clip, clip' of his feet quickened as I turned to face the red rooster. Before I was fully around, he was upon me.

Stretching both of his wings to full length, he jumped chest high onto me. I was only able to let out one sharp yell before I fell onto my back. The big red rooster stood there on my chest, flapping his wings, and pecking at my white woolen cap. I now was screaming and kicking both legs in an obvious effort to get someone's attention.

I'm not sure how long I lay there with this winged beast from Hell standing on my chest. A minute, two minutes, an hour, it could have been longer! I am certain the rooster and I rearranged a great deal of snow in those short moments. I with my kicking red boots and he with his flapping wings must have made that portion of the yard look like it was a winter wonderland complete with flying feathers and large clumps of white wool.

It seemed I was near total exhaustion, when as suddenly as he attacked, the wings disappeared. The rooster's only remnant was a few feathers floating slowly towards me. My dad had removed the fowl from Hell with a right foot worthy of an extra point in any football game. The rooster went flying through the air and cleared the fence near the barn by about six inches.

 

[American Horse]

It wasn't long after breakfast on Christmas morning that I cut the string holding the boots together and slipped them on my feet. Proudly walking back and forth in our living room, I actually tried different gaits attempting to accentuate my stride in the new red boots.

"Maw, I'm going outside!" I shouted to my mother as I hopped down our rear steps.

I ran swiftly to our well top and began to kick clumps of snow into the yard with all the strength a seven year old could manage. I was amazed at the amount of snow I was able to lift with these boots. It took two, maybe three minutes to completely clear the well top with the magnificent red boots. Could it be that these boots possessed some magical quality?

I jumped down from the well top and marched with a lofty step, passing the boxwoods into the side yard near our chicken house. Dad had let the chickens out earlier that morning, and I had hardly noticed the big red rooster who had begun to walk towards me.

I stood there, almost defiantly, glaring into the yard and the virgin snow. I was certain that with the new red boots on my feet, I would soon be successfully exploring the uncharted passages in the forest that surrounded our house. Life was filled with new and wonderful visions of adventure.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I caught the glimpse of a red flash coming towards me. The 'clip, clip, clip' of his feet quickened as I turned to face the red rooster. Before I was fully around, he was upon me.

Stretching both of his wings to full length, he jumped chest high onto me. I was only able to let out one sharp yell before I fell onto my back. The big red rooster stood there on my chest, flapping his wings, and pecking at my white woolen cap. I now was screaming and kicking both legs in an obvious effort to get someone's attention.

I'm not sure how long I lay there with this winged beast from Hell standing on my chest. A minute, two minutes, an hour, it could have been longer! I am certain the rooster and I rearranged a great deal of snow in those short moments. I with my kicking red boots and he with his flapping wings must have made that portion of the yard look like it was a winter wonderland complete with flying feathers and large clumps of white wool.

It seemed I was near total exhaustion, when as suddenly as he attacked, the wings disappeared. The rooster's only remnant was a few feathers floating slowly towards me. My dad had removed the fowl from Hell with a right foot worthy of an extra point in any football game. The rooster went flying through the air and cleared the fence near the barn by about six inches.

I'm reminded that a similar thing happened to a very young me, and on a Christmas day. The rooster trapped me in a corner of the back porch, but it ended up the same way. That experience left a very clear and unforgettable memory. I was lucky to have put on a hat and a heavy coat and I could pull my head inside it when the attack began. Luckily the rooster made a lot of noise, but so did I, which brought my dad and Uncle out. I was always certain that it was going for my eyes, but it also had long "spurs" it used to gouge at my face and hands. I was able to remain standing, hanging into the corner, but a lot of randomstuff got scattered about.

Later, as an older youth, when we moved away from all my friends, to occupy me my mom wanted me to raise chickens; also I suppose to teach me animal husbandry. One of the cruelest things I saw was the way a rooster would blind a lesser submissive (and always a) male bird by going after its eyes. After that it could hardly be called a rooster, but just a neutered male bird. Once it lost an eye this bird lowest on the pecking order would understand, and always remain on the edges, fleeing from the more dominant birds when approached; a sad situation really, but instructive.

There were more than lessons about animal husbandry in raising chickens. Reds are aggressive and whites are more submissive. Once you catch them you can mesmerize them, even several at a time, leaving each one lying on its back in a catatonic state while catching the next one and repeating the process.

 

[JimH52]

Interesting, so the Rooster WAS going for my eyes. Chickens and I never could get along after that indicent. Thanks!