Thursday, June 10, 2010
Sunday Dinner was even less thankful. That rooster hated me with a vengeance. Every time I entered the chicken coop that rooster was lying in wait to deter the intruder of his domanin. He wasn't going to let me get those eggs come hell or high water. He would come at flapping his wings and clawing with his great claws, and go straight for my face. I hated that rooster with a passion and taking care of those chickens was hell for me.
To make matters worse, Sunday Dinner wasn't afraid of my dad. My dad, who has a penchant for naming animals after the foods they would become, would walk into the chicken coop with me, and that rooster would just stand in the corner watching us. He would try to flap his wings at us, but my dad wouldn't stand for that and back into the corner that rooster would go. Dad also tried to teach me not to be afraid of Sunday Dinner and show him who was boss, but I could never past his powerful wing span that beat against me every time he got close enough to inflict pain upon me. I was plain scared of Sunday Dinner. He was largest, meanest rooster I knew. Granted he was the only rooster I knew, but still.
Dad wasn't always available to go out there with me, so I enlisted my brother Raymond to act as my body guard against Sunday Dinner. Hey, I needed all help I could get! Raymond grabbed a broom and followed me out to the chicken coop. At the door I sent Raymond through first, and followed close behind. As soon as Sunday Dinner caught sight of me, the attack began, and Raymond began beating him off me with the broom while I gathered eggs and checked the feeders and waterers. Without my brother, that rooster would have gotten me good. I was always glad my brother had my back. It made my job a little easier.
As for Sunday Dinner, he never did live up to his name. Instead, he lived a very long and not so fruitful life, as none of those eggs he was diligently guarding ever got a chance to hatch. He was outside one day, scratching for bugs and enjoying the sunshine when he dropped dead in his tracks. Dad was pretty sad about that, and dug a grave for him somewhere by the chicken coop.