Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Attack of the Rooster

So, after moving into my new place, I have noticed some strange behaviour from the red rooster.  As I walk to and from the house (going to school or coming home from an errand), the rooster runs up to me and hits me.  Sometimes, he runs in front of me and ruffles his feathers poised and ready to attack.  I was and still am genuinely confused by this behaviour.  All my experience with Azeri chickens and Louisiana chickens says that chickens run away from you unless you have good in hand.  Then again, my mother always told us not to chase the roosters at Momo's.  At first, I was amused by the attacking rooster, but now that the ground is muddy and I'm wearing heels, I am less inclined to be kind.  
At first, I hiss at the rooster, "You know, I could eat you if I wanted."  (A phrase I can say in both English and Azerbaijani.)  The rooster doesn't know I'm a vegetarian, but my threats appear to have no effect on my stubborn and formidable foe.  He rules this yard.  I am an unwanted trespasser.  My next form of attack was throw pebble in his general direction; it's a tactic that works on dogs, so it should phase my rooster-foe.  No luck.  He just dodges the pebbles and continues his pursuit with dogged determination.  I'm glad the dogs of Lerik aren't this persistent.
I made a passing comment to Gul that the rooster keeps hitting me, and she become very distressed.  "He may jump on you and take out your eye," she warns.  
Not exactly a story I want from the PC.  "What happened to you eye in Azerbaijan?"  "Well, I was riding in a crazy marshutka, and ....  No, really, a rooster attacked me."
But while I was contemplating ways to protect my eyes from rooster attacks, Gul's next sentence brought me back into the present.  "I'll tell Poppa to kill him."  "What?!"  She repeats the phrase thinking that I didn't understand.  "Why?" I ask.  Basically her answer is that he's getting aggressive and needs to be put down.  I was saddened to know that I am the cause of the rooster's untimely demise.

Until the next time, I went outside, and he attacked me.  Now as I cross the yard keeping an ear open for the pitter patter of his approach, I think, "your days are numbered, buddy."