In case you wonder where I get blog ideas, this one came as our associate pastor wrapped up her scripture reading for last Sunday’s sermon with, “and then, the cock crew.” Memories of experiences with roosters came to mind although I did, indeed, follow her sermon about the significance of that particular cock.
My first memory came when I was four and our family of five rented half a large house from the owner. She had a nasty mean rooster. Having been warned about his temperament, I was duly cautious. However, on this particular morning the bird was nowhere in sight as I ran out the back door to play. The sneaky varmint had hid himself behind a bush and flew out at me before I could get out the back steps, pecking at my bare legs, and scaring the bejabbers out of me.
I thought about the nights we slept at Papaw’s house, his big windows open for the night breeze in the hot summer. Morning was welcomed by his big rooster atop a fence post calling out his “Cock-a-Doodle-Doo.”
As Al and I discussed this over Sunday lunch, he recalled a rooster in his mother’s flock that chose to light on his head. He couldn’t remember whether there was any pecking involved. I had to mentally shrink him to a small boy and put hair back on his head to get that picture in my mind.
So, cocks or roosters, seem to have their place in life, but since my preschool days, I have chosen to give them a wide berth and admire them from a distance. That is, unless they turn up majestically as a favorite jigsaw puzzle.