Despite the fact I now live in the city of New York, I was raised in the south. Mind you, I was raised in the city of Atlanta, but years ago my parents moved up into the North Georgia mountains where they now live on a farm complete with horses, dogs, chickens, roosters and more.
I'm home visiting for the weekend and was brought to tears laughing as the stories of how my father and his friend encountered the roosters one recent afternoon out in the pasture. They were doing some work on a fence and heard someone or, in this case, something approaching them from behind. They turned to find two huge roosters headed straight towards them with wings at full spread and beaks stretched forward and prepared to strike. It was man versus rooster and from what I heard the roosters had the upper hand. My father tells how as his rooster "opponent" approached him repeatedly and with great tenacity, all he could think to do was kick him every time he came after him. Much to his surprise the rooster came back at him nine times before finally shaking his head and clucking up a storm. My father is still convinced the rooster surely considered himself the victor. By the way, my father is 71 years old, today.
His friend Ed fared a bit better as he had a lead line close by which he quickly picked up and started swinging at his rooster "opponent". I think this deterred him more quickly as he was only attacked five times. Again, convinced he still won his battle, this rooster turned around and strutted back to the barn yard.
So, what's the moral of this story. Always be prepared to fight off a rooster because they can run much faster than any human.
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