The Wretched Rooster

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While there may be nothing more peaceful than waking up to the sounds of the ocean waves, there is certainly nothing more dreadful than being woken up from a dead slumber by a rooster who sounds like he’s suffering an asthma attack.

At the beginning of our stay on the Island, I found the baby chicks, carefully safeguarded by their mother, to be quite endearing. On one occasion, I was sitting on the lounge chair on our front lawn when an entire family approached me, pecking on the ground in search for food. I went inside to retrieve some pumpkin seeds for the little chicks and was surprised to see each approach the side of my chair without fear. When I realized that the pumpkin seeds weren’t a big hit, I went back inside in search of dried fruit. Even the Mother Hen gobbled down these treats, without thinking twice to share them with her young. Again, I felt that my good deed for the day had been fulfilled.

Later, when Gene and I made a visit to the laundry room of our hotel, we noticed for the first time the big sign that was posted: “PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE CHICKENS! Encouraging the chickens encourages the roosters and not everyone appreciates the roosters’ morning wake up calls.” Oops!!!

Gene and I would often have a giggle when, out of the blue, some rooster crowed his heart out as though trying to show off his masculinity. However, early in the morning in the dead of sleep, we did not find this so funny. One or two Ca ca doodle doos here and there is tolerable, but the Hen that woke us on this memorable morning sounded more as though it was having a stroke. Bc bc RHAH…bc bc RHAH…bc bc RHAH... The damn thing did not even hesitate long enough to take a breath. Gene and I initially lay there, aware of each other’s consciousness, but hesitant to engage in any conversation for fear that we would not be able to get back to sleep. After a good ten minutes of this nonsense, the two of us were swearing up a storm and devising plans to put the Hen to rest. Gene jumped out of bed in a rage and, as though the Hen had been looking through our window and taunting us, it stopped. However, our potential for rest had already passed.

As Gene and I lie in bed reading this afternoon, I decided to take a half-hour nap before getting ready for our last night out on the town. As soon as my eyes closed, the same god damn rooster was up to its old antics again. As I cringed in bed, Gene let out a hearty laugh. However, after only a few minutes of listening to this wretched Rooster, Gene hopped out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans and rushed out the door to wring its neck. I was laughing uncontrollably as I listened to Gene’s footsteps creeping around our room, growing more distant as the rooster’s crows grew fainter. He was at his wits end and was chasing the damn thing in circles until he ran it into the next complex. I’m waiting for the next sign to read: “PLEASE DO NOT CHASE THE ROOSTERS! Chasing the roosters encourages the roosters and not everyone appreciates the roosters’ early morning revenge.”

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Comments

[darby]

sounds like...
so gene was cock blocking?

[Mom]

GO COCKS
And all this time I thought you liked waking up at 4 a.m. to the roosters. LMAO