| Description |
always after risking his life to cross the highway, he would turn around and talk in rooster talk to the fast disappearing car or truck, peck at a few pebbles or blades of grass, and then start for home. Each morning from our kitchen window we would watch his death-defying antics. Sometimes, if we had to leave before Pete's journey was complete, Betty, our daughter kept us informed as to his travels- Finally she would announce, "He's comin' for home just as fast as he can put one foot in front of the other." Pete was a very light sleeper and we learned to love him because of his cheerful crow, which could be heard almost anytime, especially at night when all was dark and quiet with most everyone in the neighborhood asleep. Then if we were wakeful, we could be cheered by his "cock-a-doodle-do " Sometimes we wondered if he crowed because of his dreaming, or perhaps he had been awakened by falling off his roost. Nevertheless, he always put much vigor and loudness into his nighttime broadcasts. Finally, he became such a favorite pet that we spoiled him dreadfully, feeding him crumbs or grain when we knew such largesse was not for his best good. When our kitchen door opened, he would begin to talk to us with his own peculiar cluck-a-cluck sounds and we would try to talk back to him to intimidate him, even though we did not know what we were saying. We grew to love our cheerful rooster and all family members felt he was their friend. One morning near Thanksgiving time, my husband, Ernest said, "There's just no sense feeding that bird any longer. He is so fat and if we don't soon do something about eating him hell grow so old and tough that well never be able to cook him tender." We knew Ernest was just teasing, but the thought of our rooster's plump brown goodness on our Thanksgiving dinner table was too revolting to even think about. Consternation showed on all 119 |
