farm life update rip peaches

well folks…… peaches finally got what was coming to him. he is no longer with us.

i’m kind of sad, kind of not. peaches was a reall a$$hole of a rooster. he turned doing chores from being  relaxing and hanging out with my animals to a death defying man vs. animal obstacle course. and before we left for orange beach my aunt said that she wasn’t going to put up with him. it was either him… or our vacation.

peaches as painted by my pal Hollyhocks and Hydrangeas. 

peaches and i go way back. far enough where i did him enough favors over his short life time to not warrant an all out jurassic park baby raptor attack every time i went into the barn. when he was just a little teenager chicken, his hair all icky and feathers scraggly i went out into barn one morning to find him laying there half dead and beat up. one of the other chickens had gone coo coo crazy co co puff on him and left him for dead. sobbing i took him inside the house. covered in poo poo and chicken blood i asked joe if i could keep him inside for the day. (please note: this entire time i thought he was a she hence the name peaches). joe promptly reminded me that we had a “no chickens in the house policy” and banished peaches and i to the garage. luckily i had a spare coop and i nursed him/her back to health.

i had high hopes for peaches. one day she would be on oprahs couch telling her tale of survival to the world. slowly but surely she grew stronger and stronger, started eating and drinking again and finally started crowing.

woah woah woah… crowing?

yea cheap trick fooled me. she was a he this entire time! knowing what a pain roosters are i was so mad! i thought i was saving a prize winning egg layer. not some rag tag sex charged a$$hole rooster! i tossed him back out into the barn with the rest of the chickens.

where he grew big. and he grew mean. well not really big he is was a bantam rooster. they’re like little angry napoleons running around. every time i would go out to feed them i would get attacked. i would boot him across the barn and he would come back for more.

finally i had had enough. i tried to get my uncle to come shoot him while joe was gone but he didn’t have time. so when joe came home…i was like…. welcome back kill the rooster.

like the dutiful husband joe is he put the psycho rooster in a bag took him to the other side of the field and ended it. (i made him take it far away so the other animals wouldn’t see). this was the first instance of capital punishment on the farm. rule #1 don’t mess with the farmers wife. she usually always wins.

 

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