(Cont’d from series on a-mean-rooster)
Dropped Sombitch Rooster
off in a wooded area near a weed and gravel-covered path leading to an Urban Homestead with rows of corn in what appeared a good size farm enclosed by a six-foot “mesh” fence and a locked gate. Before that, I removed the cage holding the chickens and young roosters from the back of my car, opened the door of the cage, and planned to throw the six fowl over the fence. The first one squawked and evaded my grasp, but I got hold of one, a small rooster, and gently “tossed” him over, watching him fly to the ground by the gate. The second one also dodged away from me, but I got her out and over with no problem. She was less graceful and kinda landed in a small bush that cushioned her blow before touching ground, some grass and soil covering the rest of a path leading to a white-painted large farm-house, the kind I’d visualize if ever I want to picture the perfect farmstead. One bigger than Dorothy’s place in Kansas before and after her magical trip to Oz.
Too late, I noticed that the rest of the birds had escaped out of the now open cage. (I might have sent a third one over the fence, but memory — just two days after the fact — is already failing me. Funny, isn’t it? [Can anyone say early senility?] )
Meanwhile, the few I had delivered to “safety” had stepped through the five to six-inch gap between the mesh gate and the fence, joining up with their brothers and sisters, meandering on this side of the fence. I knew then what I had to do . . .
Got Sombitch Rooster’s cardboard box. It was one given to us by the veterinarian clinic to “travel” with another animal, one with holes and a make-shift handle. Perfect to hold the mean critter, who had settled down in the back seat, trying to announce with a “cockle-doodle-doo” through the closed box and open car window that it had been kidnapped when I stopped for directions or sought a “sign” some eight to ten times on the trip.
Placed the box in weeds, and gently opened it, tilting it away from my legs, taking no chances with him. Saw Sombitch kinda scrunched into a ball, awaiting who knows what his little mind might have imagined. And yes, I think he just might have the ability to dream and devise devious plans to attack his keeper. Instead of focusing on love, he dwells on less positive thoughts — like some people I’ve known in the human realm.
Sombitch staggered out. Took two or three steps into the bushes. (Trying to get his “sea legs” after 90 minutes in the box?) He slowly stepped around the side of the box north of me and further away. For a moment, I thought he was going to sweep into my direction to pay me back for such a disruption in his life, his comfort zone. Instead, he “ran” toward the six others that were “hanging out” some 20 feet away. It was as if they were waiting for him, the one who had sired them, and of whom would lead them in their Brave New World.
I’ll never forget the last look I had of the seven. Sombitch Rooster appeared to have been greeted by them, as he “took charge” and marched them away from me and into whatever their new future — and the Fates — had in store for them.
Can’t help but pray they find as much happiness as they can get. Hope the only suffering they face is something bearable, and they’re able to create karmic causes and conditions for a better next life.