#i know this got super off topic but I was likE CHILDHOOD DRAMA AROUND ROOSTERS?? more relatable than you'd think

[batrachised]

I will never get over Faith's poor rooster Adam...

Almost 20 years since I first read the book and I could still cheerfully do a violence to the aunt on Faith's behalf.

LM Montgomery is so skilled at writing situations where you're gnashing your teeth at the sheer injustice of it! Poor Faith! Poor Adam! I do love the little snippet we get of Adam's perspective:

“Shoo, there,” commanded Mrs. Davis, poking her flounced, changeable-silk parasol at him. Adam shooed. He was a wise rooster and Mrs. Davis had wrung the necks of so many roosters with her own fair hands in the course of her fifty years that an air of the executioner seemed to hang around her. Adam scuttled through the hall as the minister came in.

While i'm on the subject of roosters though, I do have a story. When we were little, my family rescued a chick from a school that had done that weird "have dyed chicks for easter" thing. If you don't know what that is, I have no explanation. All I know is that apparently in some places around Easter they have dyed chicks as presents or decorations (?!), and this little chick was literally green. Since this was obviously not a great situation for the wee ball of fluff, we took it home and raised it while it was still small.

My older sister took the charge. She decided that if this rooster was going to survive, he had to be tough. So, in something straight out of the karate kid, my sister (who went on to work in animal training related things lol) put together a program. She taught him karate (yes, really) by trying to train him to kick on command, along with a series of other (non-harmful) exercises that I don't remember at this point. He'd stand on top of her head. She tried to get him to wade in his water bowl. All in all, I'd say he received an thorough education, at least as thorough as a ten year old girl can bestow.

As the rooster got older, we decided to give him to a relative who lived in the country and needed a rooster. He deserved more space, he needed to go on to live his rooster life, and this worked out well for everyone. More than well - apparently this was one of the best roosters my relative ended up ever having. You know why? He viciously protected those hens lmao. He was the king of his domain, and he made sure everyone knew it. Whenever we visited this relative, we could hear him from across the yard crowing loudly, lengthily, and repeatedly, in a bold sing song of a "COCKLE-DOODLE-DO." He lived a very content life as master of all he could see. After a rough beginning, he rose to the top in something out of every sports movie. He was the Caesar of the coop.

Unfortunately, years later I learned that he had passed. Ah, I thought to myself, even the best of us must go. I was a little taken aback to learn that he'd been killed by a younger rooster. Overthrown, you might say. Well, that's nature, I thought to myself. Cold and brutal in ways we can't understand. It's simply the circle of life, to quote the lion king. While he had an arc straight of the sopranos (he went from the streets to the throne), our rooster was finally at rest, I believed.

Not my sister. My sister maintained fiercely that--and I am in no way exaggerating--that our rooster had been murdered, and murdered in cold blood. By our relative, you might be thinking, given the context of the passage above? No--by the younger rooster. What I chalked up to nature she chalked up to premeditated intent. I'm not going to lie, I found this ridiculous. Cause of death, sure, but murder? She railed on about injustice; I thought to myself, "It's chickens."

Fast forward a decade later. I'm remember this story and laughing about it - hey, remember when you were little and thought our rooster was murdered? - only to get this response from my nearly thirty year old sister:

I then proceeded to learn some facts of the case I hadn't known before.

What I'd heard as a child: a younger rooster killed him. I presumed in a fight or squabble of some sort.

What I learned as an adult: he was surrounded by more than one younger rooster and attacked, in a straight up Ides of March moment.

My comparison to him as a character in the Sopranos - as Julius Caesar himself - was more accurate than anyone could have known. Rise up to the top, only to be defeated by (likely) his own sons, those closest to him. As my sister stated:

#yes his name was chicka chicka boom boom #thanks for the ask!! #i know this got super off topic but I was likE CHILDHOOD DRAMA AROUND ROOSTERS?? more relatable than you'd think