Chicken catching and impending doom

Dad and I built a cock pen yesterday and we contained ten cocks in it. Roosters that is. And Dad had a cock catching stick.

Yeah, it all sounds pretty bad, but really its not. Dad had a stick to hook the roosters, which he proceeded to catch two by two, each by one leg, hang them upside down and hand them out to me to put in the new pen. Me, never having caught roosters like that, probably took the bundle of chicken wide-eyed and astonished at my father’s chicken catching abilities. But it all turned out to the good, the rooster who tried to attack Dad got a comeuppance and the hens are peaceably going about their pecking and laying. The roosters however still act stunned, looking over at the hens like “what the hell happened here?”

So the weekend is over, the horses got locked in the barn overnight but survived to graze another day, and Dad’s getting ready for his trip. It’ll actually be nice having the place to myself for a couple days. Of course, I move from second in command to head hancho with Maxine as my faithful sidekick.

Yup, we’re doomed.