"If you can't hear a rooster crow, you ain't living country!"

He was beautiful, but he sure was loud!

Originally published February 10, 2009

Well, I can stand the fact that we’re no longer living country.

Gonzo the rooster, hand-hatched and raised, had to be put out to pasture.

Sawyer was terrified of Gonzo. Scared to death. Sawyer is eight, and has, shall we say, a flair for the dramatic (along with a love for musicals, dancing, and theater. Jury’s still out on him.) He has one job on his chore list every day: Take care of the animals. Not that big a task -- five hens, a rooster, two cats and a golden retriever.

It would take Sawyer 45 minutes to feed the chickens, and he’d come in, sometimes shaking, sometimes shrieking, sometimes crying, but always with a story of how the rooster was about to peck out his eyeballs, or slash his throat with his “razor-sharp talons of death,” or he could just hear Gonzo sneaking up behind him, ready to pounce.

I finally got tired of it and went out one day to feed the stupid chickens myself, and Gonzo came after me, and I have to admit, he was a little scary, and I weigh considerably more than the 50 pounds Sawyer’s got on him.

Then Mark started in on the whole thing, because the rooster has a bad habit of sleeping under our bedroom window and crowing at 4 a.m. And then at 5 a.m., and again at 6 a.m., by which time Mark was ready to have soup.

So I put an ad on Craig’s List, and some very weird guy named Rhett couldn’t wait to come and get Gonzo. 

“Well, ah’ve got guineas and ducks and geese and who knows what-all out here and he’ll do just fine, God bless his little heart. Besides, if you don’t wake up to a rooster’s crow every morning, you ain’t living country.”

So, off goes Gonzo.  Rhett picked him up yesterday morning, and the only one who will miss Gonzo is Sander, who I’m sure sensed a kindred spirit.