Early last week, we started to hear some strange bird calling up on the Lookout Hill. "It sounds like a rooster," said Brian. But there is no rooster here, and no rooster anywhere near here. We don't have wild roosters. Wild turkeys, yes, Wild chickens, not so much...
We were all racking our brains trying to figure out what the heck would be out there, sounding like a rooster, living in the wilderness, singing with the wolf pack, crowing at random intervals during the day. We were baffled, and so were our Naturalist friends. Once we had crossed "rooster" off the list of possibles, we were stymied.
Then a lovely lady came into the office to report that one of our chickens was running amok on the Port Cunnington Road. "A truly beautiful bird," she said, "I'm so afraid it will be hit by a car."
Now the hens are lovely, but not stunningly lovely.. And while they range freely, the Port Cunnington Road -- the far side of a creek and ravine -- is a little far even for the most adventurous of hens. So Taffy and I went to collect this errant hen that had wandered a road too far.
And there, on the side of the road, scratching in the bracken, we found Brewster, the Homeless Rooster. The answer to what is in the woods that sounds like a rooster? A rooster.
Dave and Mike were summoned to help with the Rooster Roundup. Taffy was not as much help as she thought she was as we herded this semi-feral fellow about, David wielding a big fishing net, Mike leaping nimbly through the bracken like a gazelle, me scurrying along on top of the bank trying to prevent escape through the great frontier. Cars slowed down, people laughed... One fine gentleman leaned out and called, "Nancy, Now I've seen Everything." How little he knew...
Finally David succeeded in stuffing Rooster in a Sack. Brewster was less than thrilled by this turn of events. Being Bird in a Bag was not his game plan. We brought him back, and tucked him away in splendid isolation and safety while we developed a plan. After all, beautiful as he is, we don't want a rooster at the resort. They can be quite territorial, and with the little fingers that come to help gather eggs, we don't want anything that might be scary. Social media came to our rescue. We put out the word that Brewster the Homeless Rooster needed a forever home.
Kellie came riding to the rescue -- as it happens, she has been looking for a rooster for their farm for the past few weeks. We are happy to report that Brewster has emigrated to Burks Falls, to be in charge of his own harem of hens.
So one mystery is resolved. But a deeper mystery endures. How did the rooster get into our woods in the first place? Who dumps a rooster in a random drive-by?
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