Don’t count your chickens

When we first moved to the farmhouse, we rebuilt the chook pen. It was decided that we’d get a rooster and raise some chicks from eggs. Some feed, some hay and let nature take its course. Soon we’d be rolling in eggs, or so we thought. The rooster we got for free (what a deal) a great white charger of a chook we called Wellington. Wellington had his way with one of our Winedot hens, and then come spring, we hatched three cute chicks. They all turned out to be aggressive pricks of roosters. Being vegetarian, we spared them the chop. Instead, we got eight years of alarms at 3 o’clock each morning.

awoken

the lingering echo

of the rooster’s crow

©️sbwright2023