As some of you may remember I gained a very faithful friend in the large rooster whom I named Foghorn Leghorn, when I saved his life from the bully rooster. I named him thus because of the memories I have from my childhood of watching the Looney Tunes cartoons.
After I saved him that day, he stayed pretty close to my room for many weeks, afraid of running in to the copper coloured rooster that jumped him. He slept on the bench outside my window, jumping up there just before the sun would set on the day – I was glad he had a safe place to rest each night. The other chickens and roosters nowhere to be seen. He would leave before the sun rose, restrained from giving his morning call, keeping a very low profile during the weeks while he recovered. He was expert at disappearing when he saw the bully rooster coming towards my room, something I did not see so easily. He would become part of the greenery, completely invisible to me when I would go check on him. When he was sure the coast was clear, he would come back, entering my room talking to me in his soft clucking sounds.
He often came into my room where I would give him snacks. He would settle in and sleep near my bed as well, sometimes right beside my feet. He seemed to find peace with me and I was comforted by this. A couple of times while we were outside and he was bug hunting he got caught by the copper rooster, who tried more than once to pin Foghorn to the ground. But I was ready with my broom, chasing the brute around the yard like a fool, until he left Foghorn alone. He was too proud to leave the area until he was good and ready, but as long as he saw me and my broom he let Foghorn be.
One time I came back from my meal to find Foghorn in Mali’s Kennel, standing still as a statue, the bottom of the kennel his wall of protection. At this time I had the kennel laying on it’s side facing the wall. Chiripa and Scott made good use of it for their night time bed, followed by Fuzzbit and Jellyroll when they found me. So here was this giant rooster hiding in this space, his head touching what was now the top of the cage, blending into the woodwork so to speak, quiet as a mouse. I was very proud of him to find such a clever hiding spot. He came out as soon as I opened my door and we had a visit. I imagine as he made all his sounds, he was telling me his adventure, something which reminded my of my buddy Tig so many years ago.
As the weeks passed, he got a little braver, until he would give a rather week good morning call as the sun rose, but not too boisterous. He also began to hold his ground more and more when copper head came around, but only for short bursts.
One day I noticed the copper rooster was staying very close to the tree by the kitchen, something I could see from my room. It appeared from the distance between us, he was unable to leave. When I went for my meal I saw that he was indeed tied to the tree at the ankle with enough rope to move around and jump on the platform where the bananas were. When I inquired as to the reason for this form of imprisonment, I was kind of relieved to hear it was because of his treatment towards the other chickens/roosters. I guess I was not the only one to have witnessed his cruelty! So this was very good news for Foghorn who seemed to realize he was being given a reprieve and slowly got his courage (and his favourite hen who he had 5 chicks with) back.
The copper rooster was released, but had more than one sentence tied to the tree, until he became more mellow. Foghorn continued to sleep under my window, until the night I took the picture of him there which ended up being the last night. He had got his groove back :). He seemed to have found his familiar space with the other chickens once more and I was so happy for him. To watch him grow out of his fear and gain respect once more was important for me to see.
On this the last day of his life, the children were seen by me to be chasing the chickens around the property. I thought they were playing a game. They caught one of the chickens and brought it back to the main house. Most of the other chickens had taken refuge in the trees at this point, going as high as they could – even the chicks hid on the branches. Foghorn had been hanging out with me most of the day, but soon took off when the kids came back and began to chase him. He eluded their grasp several times. While they all ran around I stayed where I was watching to see if the first chicken would return. I did see after a few minutes the first chicken was indeed let go, so not for the pot then……
At this point, Foghorn came running around the corner of the building and headed for Mali’s kennel, a place that was perfect refuge once before, but turned out to be a trap this time. The kids were fast on his heels and saw where he had hidden, so were able to surround him. I was sitting outside watching all of this, still wanting to believe it was a game, but I had an uneasy feeling, one which I did not want to face. After all what could I do about it, I do not have the right to interfere in their business.
They carried him away, disappearing from my view. I stayed where I was and watched the kitchen from where I was sitting until I saw proof that my concerns were valid. Maria came into view carrying Foghorn to the kitchen by his feet, his lifeless body hanging beside her. Yes I cried. How could I not cry for my friend who kept me company many a day. One whose life I saved only to see it taken in this way. He seemed so much more to me than a meal for the families table. It was difficult for me not to see him as special knowing he trusted me to keep him safe all those weeks, but I did not save him from this fate. It was a harsh reality, one I was glad to not have participated in growing up. I would have made a terrible farm girl, that is pretty obvious.
A few days later when I had the courage to ask, Nathaly told me he had a large tumor and this was why they took his life. I felt this was a bedtime story for a little girl who was too upset to accept the truth. I let her story fool me because I had no choice, it seemed easier to accept his fate with this minor deception. I will never know for certain if she was telling me the truth – I still miss him.
The copper rooster is now at the bottom of the totem pole with Foghorn not here to challenge him and amazingly, the rooster that had that low spot is now at the top of mountain, in charge of all the hens. Makes you think doesn’t it, nothing in life is certain, so death and penalties, even small ones, can open the way for new beginnings. Seems a cruel reality I suppose, but in this case it was how it turned out. Still there is a lesson in there somewhere, not to give up, not to accept where you are if it’s not where you want to be. Just keep trying.
The dynamics have changed significantly though, Foghorn seemed to be the catalyst that created space for all the chickens to remain close to me. I am left to ponder; was it the death of such an amazing rooster, or was it the addition of a new member of this farms animal family or a combination of both that changed my interaction with them. Well that’s another story……….
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