The Art of Sneaky War.
I had preempted the story as I was awaiting the new baby chicks (more adventures concerning them in my next post!), but what had happened during that time up to their hatch?
Coq Au, after a long three years of launching unsuccessful frontal assaults has been quietly developing his new strategies of attack. Now, those of you who have been reading along this whole time might remember that I’ve cut the cable TV to the coop and have limited the flock’s internet access. Never the less, they still develop strategies of staying informed.
As it turns out, when I let the flock into the yard, I’m not watching as closely as I should. Coq Au has been surreptitiously sending Hermione (the flock’s alpha female) to the library. She waddles the mile down the street, wanders in, and says to the librarian “book book book?” and the librarian apparently obliges.
So, I wandered into the coop and found a copy of Sun Tzu’s Art of War, Caesar’s Conquest of Gaul, and an old Dungeons and Dragons handbook bookmarked to the section about thieves’ “backstab” abilities.
Coq Au is a quick study. Every morning I go into the coop to distribute breakfast. Fine. No issue. At the instant I step out again, Coq Au flings himself at the fence in a show of rage. I turn, quietly open the gate once again, step in, and invite him to test his mettle. He invariably declines.
However, when they are out in the yard, and I am puttering about with some chores … it is common for the flock, once they notice I am about, to run up to me looking for treats (I fear it is a ‘cover’ to distract me while Hermione is off at the library!). In these moments, Coq Au will be the farthest away, and as I turn to walk away, I’ll suddenly sense evil. I turn on a dime, and he is MUCH MUCH closer than he should be for a normal rate of speed and skidding to a stop. I’ll turn again, walk a few paces, turn back, and he has closed the distance by another measure.
Once, I turned at the last second, just in time, and he barely stopped in time before readying himself for a sneak attack. I kid you not, this is what happened next.
Still raging that his sneak attack was thwarted, he could not contain himself and puffed out his cowl. He was going to ‘go for it’ anyway. Respecting my fellow combatant, I bowed slightly as he and I squared off and as I live and breathe, he bowed back!
Okay, Hermione’s trip to the library is a bit of literary cheek for the purposes of making you smile … but I state emphatically once again, this rooster and I literally bowed to each other in that inescapable moment where we both realized a fight was eminent.
Having bowed to each other in mutual respect he reared up and jumped with feathers flying and talons bared. His naked aggression was met once again with the business end of my boot. Took three solid kicks, but he finally relented.
In the ensuing days, he tried again and each time I turned to thwart him (more quickly, in enough time for him to realize I was now facing him and he would not come off the better). A few of those times, I became so frustrated that I would sternly, though slowly, walk forward, slightly back and forth, to corner him all the way back to the run. Once shut in the run by himself, I would bask in the affection of the flock distributing treats and offering time on my lap. All the while, Coq Au would issue his complaints during his ‘time out’. After about fifteen minutes of this or more, I would let him free once again and return to a state of armed neutrality.
I had preempted the story as I was awaiting the new baby chicks (more adventures concerning them in my next post!), but what had happened during that time up to their hatch?
Coq Au, after a long three years of launching unsuccessful frontal assaults has been quietly developing his new strategies of attack. Now, those of you who have been reading along this whole time might remember that I’ve cut the cable TV to the coop and have limited the flock’s internet access. Never the less, they still develop strategies of staying informed.
As it turns out, when I let the flock into the yard, I’m not watching as closely as I should. Coq Au has been surreptitiously sending Hermione (the flock’s alpha female) to the library. She waddles the mile down the street, wanders in, and says to the librarian “book book book?” and the librarian apparently obliges.
So, I wandered into the coop and found a copy of Sun Tzu’s Art of War, Caesar’s Conquest of Gaul, and an old Dungeons and Dragons handbook bookmarked to the section about thieves’ “backstab” abilities.
Coq Au is a quick study. Every morning I go into the coop to distribute breakfast. Fine. No issue. At the instant I step out again, Coq Au flings himself at the fence in a show of rage. I turn, quietly open the gate once again, step in, and invite him to test his mettle. He invariably declines.
However, when they are out in the yard, and I am puttering about with some chores … it is common for the flock, once they notice I am about, to run up to me looking for treats (I fear it is a ‘cover’ to distract me while Hermione is off at the library!). In these moments, Coq Au will be the farthest away, and as I turn to walk away, I’ll suddenly sense evil. I turn on a dime, and he is MUCH MUCH closer than he should be for a normal rate of speed and skidding to a stop. I’ll turn again, walk a few paces, turn back, and he has closed the distance by another measure.
Once, I turned at the last second, just in time, and he barely stopped in time before readying himself for a sneak attack. I kid you not, this is what happened next.
Still raging that his sneak attack was thwarted, he could not contain himself and puffed out his cowl. He was going to ‘go for it’ anyway. Respecting my fellow combatant, I bowed slightly as he and I squared off and as I live and breathe, he bowed back!
Okay, Hermione’s trip to the library is a bit of literary cheek for the purposes of making you smile … but I state emphatically once again, this rooster and I literally bowed to each other in that inescapable moment where we both realized a fight was eminent.
Having bowed to each other in mutual respect he reared up and jumped with feathers flying and talons bared. His naked aggression was met once again with the business end of my boot. Took three solid kicks, but he finally relented.
In the ensuing days, he tried again and each time I turned to thwart him (more quickly, in enough time for him to realize I was now facing him and he would not come off the better). A few of those times, I became so frustrated that I would sternly, though slowly, walk forward, slightly back and forth, to corner him all the way back to the run. Once shut in the run by himself, I would bask in the affection of the flock distributing treats and offering time on my lap. All the while, Coq Au would issue his complaints during his ‘time out’. After about fifteen minutes of this or more, I would let him free once again and return to a state of armed neutrality.
After these experiences, I have now not only cut off the coops cable and
internet, but I’ve had to make the command decision to collect everyone’s
library cards.
No comments:
Post a Comment