Roosters

We have been having a rooster problem. A few days ago a friend came to bring us a meal. She left her car door open while she brought some of the food to us. When she went back out to get the rest, she called out, "Uh, Emily...there's a chicken in my car." I came out quickly as she moved closer. "Oh my gosh!" I hear. "There's a bunch of chickens...and a cat!" Sure enough, all 4 of our guard roosters and a cat were in her van. "I am SO sorry," I said. "I should have warned you." I offerred to let her take them home. No such luck. The next morning, Mr. Mean (aptly named) flew at Sarah. She wasn't hurt, but was mildly traumatized. Now, I am most definately an animal lover, but something snapped in me when that rooster attacked my little girl. He was going down! I spent a good part of the day trying to catch the bugger...while calmly resting and recovering, of course. When Keith got home I offerred him $5 to catch the darn bird. Before long, all of us were chasing him with bins and laundry baskets. I won't include the final details of his demise as it would surely make us the laughing stock of the farming community and definately put us on bad terms with the Society for Prevention of Animal Cruelty. I will mention, however, that a BB gun, a hatchet, and a few failed attempts at the "neck wringing" trick, that is supposed to be so easy, were involved. I cried and seriously pondered becoming a vegetarian. Too bad Rebecca's birthday is coming up and she is desparately hoping for a pig.