Area: FidoNet MEMORIES
Msg#: 18822
Date: 05-15-07  10:54
From: Art Tait
  To: All
Subj: The Rooster

During the Great Depression, my folks lost our house on the than outskirts of Detroit. We moved in with my mother's folks on a small farm just outside the small village of Mottville, Michigan.

Since there was a nice solid chicken house, my Dad and Granddad decided that raising a few chickens might be the thing to do. Not only would we have eggs for our own use but the A&P in Constantine would buy any surplus that we might have, issuing a chit good for groceries.  Kroger's did not to that and in later years I talked to many oldsters who refused to shop at Krogers for that reason.

But I digress.........

A couple hundred White Rocks were ordered and in due time the mailman pulled up to the backdoor with several boxes of chicks.

As the chickens grew, the roosters were converted into Sunday dinners, and the hens finally started to lay.  A few roosters survived, I suspect to keep the hens happy.

White Rocks are big chickens but one rooster was huge! He spent as much time patrolling the area as he did in the chicken yard. In time he came to think of himself as 'KING' of all he surveyed.

One afternoon, I was messing around in the front yard when I heard frightening screams coming from the back of the house. I rushed around the house to see what all the commotion was about and what a sight!

That rooster had decided that my brother, some seven younger than I am, didn't belong in the yard and was chasing him out!

For a little kid, my brother was taking strides that would put an adult to shame. At each leap he was squalling "Helllllllllp," hit the ground and again "Hellllp."  I just couldn't help myself. I lay down and rolled on the ground laughing like crazy.  About that time my mother came out to see what was going on. She didn't take kindly to my response to my brother's plight and proceeded to make her point with the broom she carried.

A few days later, when my mother was gathering the eggs, that rooster tried to chase her from the hen house. A stray board happened to be handy and when Mother got finished with him, he lay under the roost for several days and we thought sure he was all but dead.   Apparently, roosters aren't overly bright because when he had healed he tried that same stunt again!

My grandmother was an expert at making chicken pot pie and that rooster landed on the table for Sunday dinner.

Those pot pies always fascinated me.  Gram would fill a pan with chicken, potatoes, a few vegetables and then put an upside down glass in the middle and than a layer of biscuits covered the top.   As things cooked away, the juices were somehow sucked up into the glass and it was an honor to be allowed to tip it over for the gravy.

There are a number of Amish in my area and I often see chickens out scratching around. It never fails to bring `The Rooster' to mind.

... Could you continue your petty bickering? I find it most intriguing.    
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12