Rooster Recipe

Does anyone know of a good recipe featuring rooster?  I suppose when they're dead and de-feathered, roosters and hens look the same and maybe they even taste the same when they've been cooked.  I have no idea...  But, earlier today I was thinking I'd be in need of such a recipe.

It was about 1:00 pm and I had just laid Naomy down for her afternoon nap when I heard it.  You know, that thing that makes roosters different from hens.  Well, now that I think of it, there must actually be several things that make roosters different from hens.  Anyway... the most obvious way they're different.  No, not their big, shiny, green tail feathers or the kind of creepy, wrinkly red crowns on their heads.  That CROWING noise!  That big, annoying COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOO that they do!  That ear-splitting call that has savagely torn me from sweet slumber so many times in the last month.

And, it was LOUD.  It was CLOSE.  Oh, no you did NOT just crow in MY yard, rooster!

I went to the door and looked outside and there he was, with a hen pecking around beside him.

In. My. Yard.

In seconds, I had my flip flops on and I was out the door.  I was immediately plotting how I was going to take him down.  I picked up a chunk of concrete near the driveway and took my mark.  There he was, over by the wall.  My strategy was to hit him hard in a wing so he couldn't flap away over the wall.  Once I had him wounded, I could get closer.  It would only take a couple of tries and I could hit him in the head and finish him off.

You didn't know I had this brutal side to me, did you?

I took aim and fired off that first rock, surprising both of us with the amount of force and anger behind my throw.  No direct hit, but the rock bounced up off the ground and hit him on his underside.  He probably ignores humans most of the time as he struts around, crowing his stupid fowl head off at all hours of the day or night.  But, now, I had his attention and he could probably see in my eyes that I meant to eat him.

Suddenly, he was squawking like a hen, running around my yard.  He made a dash for our gate, thinking he could scuttle under it and get away, but I cut him off and scooped up another fist-sized rock in the process.  He ran back along the wall and I hurled the second rock at him.  Ooooo.... I was so close!  The rock landed in front of him, and he dashed off in another direction.  I had picked up yet another rock now....and I was closing in on him.  I fired off rock number three and he jumped up in the air, flapping and squawking...

"Get back down here, you chicken!" I shouted as I grabbed another rock.  

But, he didn't listen.  He flapped all the way up and over the wall and I heard him squawking away as fast as his nasty chicken feet could carry him on the other side.  I turned on the hen he had left behind and took aim, but she was already flapping halfway up the other wall.  I threw the rock at her anyway.  It felt good.

She, too, made it over the wall and went screaming away on the other side.

Darn.  No rooster for dinner tonight.  But, I'm stocking up on rocks for the next time, if he dares to return.

Wanna know a little irony in this?  Take a guess what used to adorn my kitchen back in Illinois...

Uh-huh.  You got it.  Painted on decorative ceramic plates...  Printed on the rug on the floor.... Even a cookie jar in its shape, painted in all those bright red, yellow, and green colors!

Roosters.

And I can assure you that all of those decorative items will someday go straight from the storage unit to the garage sale.

Hopefully, he won't be crowing around our house anytime soon.


Mark 14:72
Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the words Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.” And he broke down and wept.