I am afraid I owe you the ending to a story.
It's a story that I have avoided telling.
I hate to tell stories of the brutal side of nature...
but it's important to be honest.
You might remember that about a year ago our two farm friends Maggie and Macy
brought us four young white chickens.... sex unknown.
It wasn't long until we realized that we had 4 roosters.
And the fun began.
All was peaceful amongst the boys until the day that that awful testosterone got the best of them.
Then floggings became a way of life for us lowly farm workers.
The peace of the farm was gone.
Roosters had to be locked up when visitors came for fear of floggings.
It got uglier and uglier.
And I stopped writing about it.
Well.... months have passed and in the interim, we had to say goodbye to two of the boys.
Of the four, there were two who just refused to get along with anyone...
not chicken, nor man, nor beast.
Long story short... two of the boys are now crowing their hearts out in that big henhouse in the sky.
Peace once again prevails on the farm,
and we no longer live in fear of the "stomp, stomp, stomp" sound
that had once signaled the approach of a flogging rooster.
The two boys that remain each have their own henhouse and a bevy of ladies to care for.
They take their jobs seriously and spend their days looking after their hens.
They seem very happy and (unlike the other two...God rest their souls)
are never looking for a fight.
Peace is good.
Roosters are handsome... but, oh my, they can be trouble!