I realized that it might be difficult to find a suitable topic for a column this week after stumbling on to an adventure with a visiting rooster last week.
That’s the way life seems to be. It slows down to a walk, everything seems to be under control, nothing particularly exciting is happening, when all of a sudden a rooster appears in the driveway.
Until the day that our soon-to-be friend, Brewster the Rooster, strutted into our lives my experience with roosters had been quite limited.
But there was “Sore-Toes.”
When I was 12 or 13, my mother thought I was responsible enough to take my younger brother and sister downtown on the bus. Her opinion might have changed when we came home carrying a couple of baby chicks in a little box. That practice became a regular Easter vacation thing.
One year, one of the chicks was growing up to be a rooster when it got a foot caught in a trap door leading to our basement and lost a couple of toes. Now you know why we called him “Sore-Toes.” We found him a more appropriate home after that.
For the rest of this column, pick up the Sept. 14 edition of The Valley News. Call 598-6397 to subscribe.