Remember that I mentioned there was more than a mockingbird that plagued my life?
Fast forward 3 years and a move to a different locale, the story continues. One would think that with a move to a different neighborhood the problem would be alleviated. Unfortunately, moving does not make problems disappear, especially when the problem has wings and your number tattooed on his pointy little beak. The mockingbird seems like small fry compared to the unusually high concentration of my neighbors who seem to enjoy the crowing of confused roosters. Rooster X likes to start crowing at midnight, he is programmed for a nocturnal schedule, his owner works the night shift? Rooster Y begins at 3am and continues until the sun comes up, I want to choke his little chicken neck and bury him, deep fried, in the bottom of a KFC bucket. Rooster Z, my closest little feathered nemesis, wakes at 4:30 and continuously crows until someone stops hitting the snooze button around 5. Rooster Z has the loudest most insistent screech you will ever hear piping out of a domesticated animal, I'm pretty sure he was the one who kept me awake when I lived in the previous house. On the plus side, he does his business and then shuts up. On the negative side, he roosts 2 acres away in my neighbors coop. Proximity to screechy rooster is going to drive me to drastic measures, which may or may not be legal.
Plan A: What you mean that isn't a dove? It being dove hunting season and all I thought I could feign innocence when I blasted Z with my husband's 12 gauge. I don't want to use my good ol' Red Ryder and risk any chance on it surviving. However, he (the husband) keeps hiding the bullets from me.
Plan B: Train my ferocious feline, Mr. Hyde, to hunt roosters. Worthless cat is untrainable. He is too lazy to even chase the quail that eat his cat food.
Plan C: Involves me letting the neighbors wolves loose. Yes, my other neighbors have wolves. Yes, they howl and yes, I believe they like chicken. The down-side to this plan is how to keep the wolves from eating me first.
Plan D: A covert operation in the dead of night to relocate Z to another "farm."
Plan E: An out-patient procedure to remove his squawk box. Practically painless and nobody goes to the farm
Plan F: Want to come over to my house for dinner tonight? About 5ish. See you then.
PS-I will completely deny this post if you turn me in to the association for protection of roosters and then I will buy you a rooster. A big shiny one.
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