|The first out of the door would be |
Rufus, the Lionhearted
BIRDLAND HAS BEEN UPSET. We had such a tidy balance. In the mornings, just as the sun was coming up I would carry the big, galvanized scoop full of pellets out to the chicken house. A few steps away from the coop I would stop and spill a small offering to the great dog, Ursa, and then continue on to greet the flock. The first out of the door would be Rufus, the Lionhearted. The big, red rooster with the brave soul. He would rush at Ursa, and she would leave the small pile of grain, and turn tail to retreat to the trunk of the old Maple tree, lest she be thumped by the patriarch of the flock. Ursa used to think it was great fun to grab Rufus by the scruff of the neck and trot around the yard holding him in her mouth. However, once she got acquainted with his spurs she learned to show him more respect. A rooster's spurs are like three inch thorns on the back of his leg. They can somehow jump up and turn their spurs toward the victim to give a sound thumping. If spur meets flesh, there will be blood. Ursula lived to regret her earlier disrespect of the old rooster.
|THE GREAT DOG, URSA|
|... scattered from one end of the coop|
to the other.