a rooster's tale
Oh sure, you’ve seen the blogs…the tweets…the Facebook pleas. Save Clooney. Friends don’t eat friends. Save a cock, eat meat instead.
But truth be told, he may still get his ass shot if he doesn’t stop wandering the neighbor’s yards in the middle of the night, alerting them of the time like a jacked up cuckoo clock.
And now our Silkie is getting in the on fun. I heard him crow at the crack of dawn…well, if you can call it crowing. He sounded more like George of the Jungle, swinging on a vine on a collision course with a tree. He’s making Clooney look like the smart rooster. And how can I complain about that?
Until the next time…I’ll be waking to the annoying sounds of two broken roosters.