A tale of a devilish rooster

Published 10:46 am Tuesday, October 4, 2016

You may be getting tired of granny and granddaddy Pete stories, but I just have to to tell you one more about their mean old rooster.

I cannot remember his name, but I hope it was something really mean, like “Mr. Devil” or something.  In fact, I will call him that as I write this.

Mr. Devil ruled the barnyard. 

It’s hard to tell whether the hens loved him or hated him, but they sure had to put up with him around. 

He had two main jobs. He had to take care of “his girls” and he had another function, which he seemed to really enjoy. Let me back up here.

Whenever we visited them, we were obliged to use the outhouse. 

I know you all know what an out house is but there’s was a little different in that there was no back to their out house. There was a front door so you went in and sat down, exposing your behind to the wind and to Mr. Devil.

Now, most out houses are totally enclosed but not granny and granddaddy Pete’s. 

So here’s what happened any time nature called: Mr. Devil kept one eye on that thing and felt it his duty to race around to the back and literally peck the crap out of whatever he could reach. And it hurt! And it scared me. 

My mother told me to yell as loud as I could and he would leave me alone, but I just flat could not do whatever I was there for and yell at the same time.

 It was the only thing I did not like about our visits to granny and granddaddy Pete’s house in Naylor, Georgia.

The view from the mountains is wondrous.