The Maniac Rooster

Ok, so here goes. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while: write down memories of my childhood. I’ll start off with one from way back in the year 1999 I do believe. It was some time around then anyway!

We lived in Kahibah, and we had two chickens, Banana and Caramel. No, I don’t know how they got those names. I think it was something to do with their color. Banana was a light yellow brown, whereas Caramel was dark brown. Banana was my Mum’s chook, Caramel was mine. Anyway, it so happened that these two chickens were roosters, and as they got older, they started fighting non-stop. In order to resolve the issue, Dad decided that we had to give one of them the chop. Which one, which one!? Me? I thought Banana. The chant was started, and well, since I was the only child, I got my way :). Banana got the chop. Caramel was spared.

So what about Caramel? Well let me describe what I thought of him as: a terrifying feathered fiend who would tear me to bits if I so much as got in his sight. No, I’m not kidding! I can’t remember if it was because I teased him (and why would I do that??!! lol) or if I was just not menacing enough (I think I still need work in that area :P), but after a while, Caramel would chase me and peck me. So much for gratefulness! I saved his scrawny neck, and all he could do was chase me round the yard intent on cold-blooded murder (or maybe it was justified, I can’t remember . . . )

I do remember, however, the sheer terror of a chicken chasing me. Awe, come on, I was only 4/5! I remember sneaking up in the backyard to watch him roam through our strawberry garden, him spotting me, and running towards me, wings flapping. I also remember the drops of blood that hit the cement (alright, that was exaggeration, they were just scratches) and my crying as Dad picked me up, safe from the maniac rooster.

Oh, yes, and the rush of adrenalin, flooding through my veins as I heard those horrid feathered wings getting closer, and that nasty beak. The pounding of my feet on the cement as I fled for my own sweet life, looking back over my shoulder at this black hideous dragon with big red flaps dangling from his head and that sharp beak which drove fear into every mortal around. Now that was REALLY terrifying!

Funny thing though, his chasing me and pecking me, only prompted me to tease him. Hmmm, perhaps that’s what started me on a track of adrenalin-pursuit! I remember one day, sobbing in Dad’s arms after Caramel got me.

“Now if you didn’t tease him, he wouldn’t peck you!” he scolded.

I don’t think it clicked in my 4/5-year-old head. And so the war continued, boy teasing the chicken, then fleeing in terror as the one lone chicken routed him. I mean, after all, it was one terrifying chicken!

It finally all ended when we moved up Taree, and Caramel went to stay with other chickens. One day, I found him roaming in the scrub, and chased him deep into the bush. By this time, I was much bigger and bolder. Even bloodthirsty roosters can’t argue with a 5 year-old who is determined to drive them away. We never heard of him again. No doubt a fox had the scrawny rooster for dinner. I do remember getting in trouble for chasing him away, and well, to be honest, I never felt any satisfaction from the victory; in fact, I regret doing it to this day.

R.I.P. Caramel.


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