I really like to have a rooster around, and a rooster who is a little mean is still a rooster. However, Robert Plant had it in for Sylvie. He had attacked each of us, but the older four were able to convince him to leave us alone. Sylvie just got more and more afraid.
We did plan to kill him, but we just never seemed to get around to it. While neither of us particularly minds the job, it is not one we relish either. So, one day last week, I watched Robert Plant chase Sylvie at least 100 yards; it was personal for him. After that, I promised her that Jason and I would kill him within the next 24 hours.
Then, I was coming out of the big garden, and I apparently offended him and he launched himself at me. I whacked him three times with a stick before he gave up. It's a little funny how scary an six pound rooster can be. I always think of the folk tale about how all the other animals were afraid of the rooster because he carried fire on his head.
Anyway, Jason and I killed him that evening. Now, he's in the compost pile. I'm watching Mick Jagger pretty closely, because we just cannot tolerate a really bad rooster.
Aw, Man. Imagine the story you coulda told about the night you had Robert Plant for dinner.
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