Last night, fate intervened and settled the question of our young rooster, Prufrock. Prufrock had taken to roosting on the fence instead of in the coop, and he is so fast and ornery that we just let him. For the last few weeks, we've been watching his tail feathers grow, and while he had not yet begun to crow, we were making plans to dispatch him. We live in a neighborhood and roosters don't really make for happy neighbors--last year, we gave our rooster to the animal shelter and they were not happy about taking him. So when we bought our day-olds, we vowed that if one of the little fuzzballs turned out to be a he, we'd thank him, butcher him, and eat him in a very special dinner.Well, Tristan was awakened around 1:30 this morning by some frightened squaking, and went outside to investigate. He didn't see Prufrock, but also didn't see any animals in the yard. This morning, the evidence was there. Feathers all over the ground in the yard, but then, as I suspect is often the case, no trace of where he was carried off to next. And so, we will not have to face killing some of our livestock for yet another year. It's a little sad, but since we'd been plotting his murder, we weren't really going to do him any better than whatever got him last night. Goodbye Prufrock!
Posts
1 comment:
RIP Prufrock. He was a.... well, if not a loved rooster, at least a well named one. I held him as a baby, and though I would have conspired in his murder, this story still makes me a little sad. To borrow my mother's line, "He went straight to rooster heaven."
Post a Comment