Stephenville, Texas, United States
Posted Oct 01, 2016
Back in the 80s, my parents decided to give hobby farming a try. We moved to a beautiful little farm with a peaceful forest and waterfall and established fruit trees and a coop full of chickens.
The chickens didn't mind at all if you took their eggs, but my dad soon learned that he would not be allowed in. Luckily, eggs could be gathered from the outside if the rooster wasn't paying attention, but to get in there and clean anything would involve a serious altercation with the resident male.
After a couple of years of knock down drag out fights, my dad had enough. He was in the midst of a battle, cut to pieces and he decided that this was the final fight to the death. He thought he won.
My dad did not feel that the rooster should die with any dignity, so rather than bury his nemesis, he strung him up in a tree so the buzzards could peck away at him.
The rooster got the last laugh. To this day, my father is sick from time to time from histoplasmosis that the rooster gave him in their fights for supremacy.