itsmecindi
Gold Member
Two or three years ago I had the bright idea to mount a five foot length of one by six across two posts by the front door to hang rubber boots on. The idea was to keep the boots handy, while neatly out of the way. The use of this 'shelf' lasted about three days before the boots ended up once again, scattered all over the front porch.
For a long time the 'rubber boot hanger' invention merely gathered dust, until recently, when a big old Rhode Island Red rooster reached sexual maturity and was unceremoniously kicked out of the hen house by Brewster, the king of the roosters, leaving Red... with no bed.
For the last couple nights he has been perching on this one by six right outside the living room window. It must seem to him the perfect roost, as with no screen on the window to hinder him, he fits just perfect. There's no jostling for position, he has the whole five feet to himself, and I suspect that he gets a certain amount of warmth from being right up against the window glass like that.
The rub? He's right by my daughter Jill's head, as she sleeps on the couch. The other rub? He has no sense of appropriate rooster timing, and sends out the call to wake up the world, beginning at about two o'clock in the morning.
Jill, being the dainty, darling creature that she is, allowed this to happen the first night, as she suspected it was a fluke and said she merely covered her head with a couch cushion, even though his crowing is so loud that I can hear it in my room with the fan going full blast.
Last night was another story. At roughly two thirty a.m, I awoke to find Elvis the hound, who sleeps in our room, sitting bolt upright on his fancy shmancy dog bed, barking his head off.
"What's he barkin' at?" Fred elbowed me.
"Well now, how the heck would I know?" I replied, in my usual, sweet, middle of the night manner.
I tossed off the covers and got up and made my way to the living room to see what was up, and found Jill standing by the couch holding this red rooster upside down by the feet, and shaking him like he was the heaviest branch on a money tree. Apparently, having had her fill of his middle of the night wake up calls, she slid open the window, and snatched him off the perch and was getting even.
"Girl, have you lost your mind?"
"I TOLD him if he didn't shut up..! "shake, shake, shake,..."I was gonna strangle him..." shake, shake, shake,..."and he didn't listen!" She replied in HER usual, sweet, middle of the night manner. She was a frightening specter with her face drawn into a grimace and her hair a tangled mass of auburn locks.
Feathers were flying around the room, Elvis was still barking, and the rooster was flapping his wings and raising nine kinds of cane by the time Jill felt adequately avenged and opened the front door, letting in a blast of frigid air, and flung him cup over teakettle, as far as he would go into the dark night.
"What was it?" Fred asked when I got back to the bedroom.
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
This morning I woke Jill up and made her clean up the feathers and suggested that at some point over the course of the day she take the hammer and go out and knock that one by six down. Fred still has no idea what transpired in the wee hours of the morning, had no comment about the feathers in the floor, or the curtain that got pulled down in the fray, and drank his coffee in silence as the clean up was going on.
It might be interesting to see what happens tonight, as I know teenagers, and between morning and night, many things can happen to sidetrack Jill, and I would bet my paycheck right now that she will forget to take that board down, and knowing roosters, and their infinitesimal memory capacity, I suspect that we will see a repeat of last night's events. The question is, how many feathers will end up in the living room floor and how many nights of interrupted sleep will occur before she finds the hammer and takes down that stupid board? Time will tell.
Meantime, I will remember to keep my bedroom door closed, take my cue from Fred, and try to stay out of the middle of it. Some things, especially a battle of wits between a cranky, sleep deprived, seventeen year old, and a stubborn homeless rooster, are just best left alone.
For a long time the 'rubber boot hanger' invention merely gathered dust, until recently, when a big old Rhode Island Red rooster reached sexual maturity and was unceremoniously kicked out of the hen house by Brewster, the king of the roosters, leaving Red... with no bed.
For the last couple nights he has been perching on this one by six right outside the living room window. It must seem to him the perfect roost, as with no screen on the window to hinder him, he fits just perfect. There's no jostling for position, he has the whole five feet to himself, and I suspect that he gets a certain amount of warmth from being right up against the window glass like that.
The rub? He's right by my daughter Jill's head, as she sleeps on the couch. The other rub? He has no sense of appropriate rooster timing, and sends out the call to wake up the world, beginning at about two o'clock in the morning.
Jill, being the dainty, darling creature that she is, allowed this to happen the first night, as she suspected it was a fluke and said she merely covered her head with a couch cushion, even though his crowing is so loud that I can hear it in my room with the fan going full blast.
Last night was another story. At roughly two thirty a.m, I awoke to find Elvis the hound, who sleeps in our room, sitting bolt upright on his fancy shmancy dog bed, barking his head off.
"What's he barkin' at?" Fred elbowed me.
"Well now, how the heck would I know?" I replied, in my usual, sweet, middle of the night manner.
I tossed off the covers and got up and made my way to the living room to see what was up, and found Jill standing by the couch holding this red rooster upside down by the feet, and shaking him like he was the heaviest branch on a money tree. Apparently, having had her fill of his middle of the night wake up calls, she slid open the window, and snatched him off the perch and was getting even.
"Girl, have you lost your mind?"
"I TOLD him if he didn't shut up..! "shake, shake, shake,..."I was gonna strangle him..." shake, shake, shake,..."and he didn't listen!" She replied in HER usual, sweet, middle of the night manner. She was a frightening specter with her face drawn into a grimace and her hair a tangled mass of auburn locks.
Feathers were flying around the room, Elvis was still barking, and the rooster was flapping his wings and raising nine kinds of cane by the time Jill felt adequately avenged and opened the front door, letting in a blast of frigid air, and flung him cup over teakettle, as far as he would go into the dark night.
"What was it?" Fred asked when I got back to the bedroom.
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
This morning I woke Jill up and made her clean up the feathers and suggested that at some point over the course of the day she take the hammer and go out and knock that one by six down. Fred still has no idea what transpired in the wee hours of the morning, had no comment about the feathers in the floor, or the curtain that got pulled down in the fray, and drank his coffee in silence as the clean up was going on.
It might be interesting to see what happens tonight, as I know teenagers, and between morning and night, many things can happen to sidetrack Jill, and I would bet my paycheck right now that she will forget to take that board down, and knowing roosters, and their infinitesimal memory capacity, I suspect that we will see a repeat of last night's events. The question is, how many feathers will end up in the living room floor and how many nights of interrupted sleep will occur before she finds the hammer and takes down that stupid board? Time will tell.
Meantime, I will remember to keep my bedroom door closed, take my cue from Fred, and try to stay out of the middle of it. Some things, especially a battle of wits between a cranky, sleep deprived, seventeen year old, and a stubborn homeless rooster, are just best left alone.
