Rooster story

[bcnewe2]

So this morning I let the chickens out. The rooster comes close to Dew who raises her butt off the ground. So the rooster gets mad and starts chasing Dew...all the way into the coop. Funny...I call her off and take her inside and leave Mick out to lounge around in the sun on the stoop.

Now Mick is barking...who is here??....

I look out and see Mick backed up between the car and the tractor cause the rooster is after him. Yes he could kill him in a minute but he knows he's not supposed to. So he's barking for me to come out and save his butt. I call him inside and he can't come, cause he has to walk right by the rooster and that ain't gonna happen in this roosters life time.

So I had to go out and get him.

I've never laughed so hard!

This from a dog who will work range cattle and never give up. A rooster kicked his butt!

I am truly counting my blessings and tellng Mr. Rooster he should be too!

And trying hard not to giggle when I look at Mick who's now stuck inside cause the rooster says the stoop is his!

[Izzysdad]

That is awesome! That gave me a much needed and good LOL.

 

Tim

[geonni banner]

Roosters iz baaaaaad. 'Specially bantams... Cats iz bad too...

[geonni banner]

I thought you might enjoy this, with all your trials and tribulations with roosters. It’s an excerpt from a book called “Jock of the Bushveld.” If you like it you can find it on Amazon very reasonably priced. It is by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick, and my edition was published in 1909.

 

A friend of mine once told me a story about a dog of his and the trouble he had with fowls. Several of us had been discussing the characters of dogs, and the different emotions they feel and manage to express,

and the kind of things they seem to think about. Everyone knows that a dog can feel angry, frightened, pleased, and disappointed. Anyone who knows dogs will tell you that they can also feel anxious, hopeful, nervous, inquisitive, surprised, ashamed, interested, sad, loving, jealous, and contented-just like human beings.

We had told many stories illustrating this, when my friend asked .the question: "Have dogs a sense of humour?" Now I know that Jock looked very foolish the day he fought the table-leg-and a silly old hen made him look just as foolish another day, but that is not quite what my friend meant. On both occasions Jock clearly felt that he had made himself look ridiculous; but he was very far from looking amused. The question was: Is a dog capable of sufficient thinking to appreciate a simple joke, and is it possible for a dog to feel amused. If Jess had seen Jock bursting to fight the table-leg would she have seen the joke? Well, I certainly did not think so; but he said he was quite certain some dogs have a sense of humour; and. he had had proof of it.

He told the story very gravely, but I really do not even now know whether he-Well, here it is: He had once owned a savage old watch-dog, whose box stood in the back-yard where he was kept chained up all day; he used to be fed once a day-in the mornings, and the great plague of his life was the fowls. They ran loose in the yard and picked up food all day, besides getting a really good feed of grain morning and evening; possibly the knowledge of this made the old dog particularly angry when they would come round by ones or twos or dozens trying to steal part of his one meal. Anyhow, he hated them, and whenever he got a chance killed them. The old fowls learned to keep out of his way and never ventured within his reach unless they were quite sure that he was asleep or lying in his kennel where he could not see them; but there were always new fowls coming, or young ones growing up; and so the war went on.

One Sunday morning my friend was enjoying a smoke on his back stoop when feeding time came round. The cook took the old dog's food to him in a high three-legged pot, and my friend, seeing the fowls begin to gather round and wishing to let the old dog have his meal in peace, told the cook to give the fowls a good feed in another part of the yard to draw them off. So the old fellow polished off his food and licked the pot clean, leaving not a drop or a speck behind.

But fowls are very greedy; they were soon back again wandering about, with their active-looking eyes searching everything. The old dog, feeling pretty satisfied with life, picked out a sandy spot in the sunshine, threw himself down full stretch on his side, and promptly went to sleep - at peace with all the world. Immediately he did this, out stepped a long-legged athletic-looking young cockerel and began to advance against the enemy. As he got nearer he slowed down, and looked first with one eye and then with the other so as to make sure that all was safe, and several times he paused with one foot poised high before deciding to take the next step. My friend was greatly amused to see all the trouble that the fowl was taking to get up to the empty pot, and, for the fun of giving the conceited young cockerel a fright, threw a pebble at him. He was so nervous that when the pebble dropped near him, he gave one great bound and tore off flapping and screaming down the yard as if he thought the old dog was after him. The old fellow himself was startled out of his sleep, and raised his head to see what the row was about; but, as nothing more happened, he lay down again, and the cockerel, finding also that it was a false alarm, turned back not a bit ashamed for another try.

The cockerel had not seen the old dog lift his head; my friend had, and when he looked again he saw that, although the underneath eye-half buried in the sand was shut, the top eye was open and was steadily watching the cockerel as he came nearer and nearer to the pot. My friend sat dead still expecting a rush and another fluttering scramble. At last the cockerel took the final step, craned his neck to its utmost and peered down into the empty pot. The old dog gave two gentle pats with his tail in the sand, and closing his eye, went to sleep again.