I used to live in Africa, and I kept a large number of hens both for eggs and for meat. I had a great cockerel in with the hens and was always a little wary of him when I went in to collect the eggs. He always seemed to have a beady look in his eye as he surveyed me from the highest perch he could fly to.
To get to the hens enclosure I had to walk through the enclosure where the 'meat' birds were, and then bend down to get through a small gate which was about four feet six inches high. In I would go with my 'trug' styled basket, lined with straw to avoid breakages. The daily egg count was about thirty-six to forty.
On the day in question I had collected the eggs and was backing my way towards the exit gate when I heard a noise. The cockerel, who had a particularly unpleasant manner about him on that day, was watching me intently. Suddenly he swooped down towards my legs. Now the problem was that I was wearing shorts and so I was an all-too easy target for him! Down he came towards me at speed, and there was no doubting his intentions!!! He aimed himself for the attack and then launched himself into it. The only way that I could defend myself was by placing the egg-trug between his beak and my legs. Accordingly every egg went flying across the ground. Not even one was saved!
Outside the outer fence my wife and son were doubled up with laughter at the sight. I was shouting for them to come in and open the gate for me to escape, but all to no avail, for they were laughing too much and, I suspect, enjoying the situation far too much to want it to stop so quickly.
So what's the moral of the story? I guess that the best thing would be to quote the old adage:
To get to the hens enclosure I had to walk through the enclosure where the 'meat' birds were, and then bend down to get through a small gate which was about four feet six inches high. In I would go with my 'trug' styled basket, lined with straw to avoid breakages. The daily egg count was about thirty-six to forty.
On the day in question I had collected the eggs and was backing my way towards the exit gate when I heard a noise. The cockerel, who had a particularly unpleasant manner about him on that day, was watching me intently. Suddenly he swooped down towards my legs. Now the problem was that I was wearing shorts and so I was an all-too easy target for him! Down he came towards me at speed, and there was no doubting his intentions!!! He aimed himself for the attack and then launched himself into it. The only way that I could defend myself was by placing the egg-trug between his beak and my legs. Accordingly every egg went flying across the ground. Not even one was saved!
Outside the outer fence my wife and son were doubled up with laughter at the sight. I was shouting for them to come in and open the gate for me to escape, but all to no avail, for they were laughing too much and, I suspect, enjoying the situation far too much to want it to stop so quickly.
My Revenge
I managed to escape unscathed apart from a very bruised ego! I called the lad over whose task it was to look after the birds. "Hey, Matambo" I called out, " You can have that cockerel for the cooking pot tonight!" He grinned and said thank you. The following day the cockerel was nowhere to be seen, but Matambo did have rather a fat belly from his meal the night before!So what's the moral of the story? I guess that the best thing would be to quote the old adage:
Never bite the hand that feeds you!
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