The rooster must die, but not on my hands 143



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I have always considered myself a lover of animals. I feel qualms of conscience when I eat a lamb roast, but not because I have been directly involved in the actual deed of its bloody demise, but because I deliberately dull my conscience to distance myself from the ethics of eating animals. I actually like animals. I like pigs, but I love bacon. I saw a tee shirt lately which read ‘I love animals, they taste great’. Now I love a chilli chickpea pattie and I don’t mind a lentil burger, but sometimes meat is just what you need. Now I will veer sideways onto dogs.

I like dogs, except for their obsession with barking coupled with the often trance like oblivion of their owners who cannot hear the deep, guttural roar of their dog, or if the pooch is small, it’s shrieking, nerve rending crescendo of staccato barks which shiver down my spine and lodge in my brain making me feel frayed and fragile. I love it when the owners say, “he doesn’t bark” even as the beast is showing me his tonsils as he belts out a jazz inspired rendition of the ‘woof woof’ song. I think they (the owners) have a self imposed convenient type of temporary deafness. I like cats because they are silent. Even as I write this on this sunny verandah, the silence is shattered by the annoying barking of the dog next door. If dogs could have their bark removed and wore nappies then perhaps they would be of some use.

I am allergic to noise. I know I am. I need to choose the noise I listen too. I don’t like imposed noise. Roaring motor bikes, lawn mowers, leaf blowers, chainsaws, screaming children and country and western music. We live in a world where noise can assault and frazzle the calmest of souls. But lets get back to the rooster. I am house sitting a small dog in Bellingen and the owner threw in a few chooks as well. I like chooks and find their clucking quite restful. However, one of the chooks looked bigger then the other, it had a bushier feather tail. He had an arrogant gleam in his beady eye. I realised it was a bloke chook, aka a rooster. I managed to lure them into their cage for the night, realising that there were six of them lunging at the food bowl. The instructions told me there were five. Never mind, must be a friend coming for a sleepover. Hope they don’t mind sharing their toothbrushes 

This morning as I lay in the land of deep slumber, catching up from a busy week and enjoying the bliss of the countryside quiet, I heard a cockadoodledoo sound outside my window. Pilllow over my head, I tried to sleep, but no, the wretch would not give up. He went on and on at intervals until I felt like a jangled wreck and wobbled out to meet the dawn with murder on my mind.
I thought about roosters. Like some men, they have a limited use. They are needed to fertilise the eggs so small fluffy chickens can be born. I thought nastily, what use are they the rest of the time?

Centuries ago our ancestors who rose at dawn to till the soil used them as alarm clocks. I have an alarm clock thank you very much. So, I open up the debate. Apart from one occasional use, what use is a rooster? Sure he looks really handsome with his glossy black feathers and smart red combe. He struts like a Rugby player out to ‘pull’ on a Saturday night. But dig deeper, and not much seems to happen in his small pea sized brain. But, alas it is not up to me to upset the balance of nature or to discuss the ramifications of post feminisim with a bunch of chooks, so I did the next best thing. After wandering down the street for a coffee to jolt me awake, I bought some ear plugs. Looking forward to a sleep in tomorrow. I hope.

Do you agree with Dee? What are you feelings about a rooster? Do you prefer your alarm clock? Tell us below!

Karen Jones

Born in New Zealand, Karen now happily lives in the mid-north coast of New South Wales. She retired early due to ill health and now focuses on her love of walking, writing, reading and spending time with her grandchildren. With a degree in writing, Karen became a blogger and book reviewer for Starts at 60, which has enabled her passions to become enjoyable pastimes. Her recipe for bliss is a well made flat white, a friendly cat and a sea view.

  1. I hate when urban farmers think they will get eggs from the rooster. So if you not going to keep hens to hatch out chickens why have a rooster.

    1 REPLY
  2. That’s funny. Gave me a good giggle.
    They can be annoying but I like chickens so I put up with the odd rooster as I know he is needed to produce more chickens for me to eat.
    I use bluetak in my ears to deaden the noise.

  3. Poor roosters get a bad rap. Much rather be woken by a rooster than an early morning flight leaving or arriving at the nearby airport. Bring back the rooster I say – we frazzled city dwellers could all use a little bit of country in our lives. And that barking dog is probably barking at your cat …..;-)

  4. It’s the very smelly petrol mowers that people round here use to murder the grass on the street verges that get me. Used far too often, which kills that type of grass; very loud, and the petrol stink is vile.

  5. I hate repetitive noise tap drips, thump thump of basketball these seem to penetrate my deaf without aids ears. Why??? Even with aids out I hear those sounds. And barking dogs too.

  6. My grandson had beautiful rooster, he crowed so he called him Panadol. Panadol was the answer for all aches & pains his mother thought.

  7. Not all animals either with a ” hotted-up-car ” at 05.30am every weekday making more noise than the dog barking at it .

  8. We live in a semi rural area so our neighbour’s rooster is an acceptable resident. Horace is a gold medal contender when it comes to crowing but I quite like it. When my sisters visited recently one was so excited to hear him: she’d not heard a rooster crow in > 30 yrs as she lives in Sydney suburbia. We also have screaming curlews, possums racing across the roof, chittering flying foxes and squawking cockatoos; So much for the peace of the country but thats all fine. However, as soon as I hear a chain saw, a leaf blower or the TV up too loud, I’m in physical distress.

  9. I love the sound of a rooster crowing and love laying in bed of a night listening to the mo pokes singing out to each other I think animals noises are beautiful human noises are terrible auguring husband and wives are the worst swearing is the worst leave the animals alone.

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