About ME
Why Am I So Angry?
Why Am I So Angry?
Why Am I So Angry?
“I have heard
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding
throat
Awake the god of day”
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Well, I have to say that I can relate a little to that guy Hamlet. Here are my stories, maybe Hamlet kept crowing about the bad vibe in Denmark, but let me tell you, it ain’t nuthin’ compare
“I have heard
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding
throat
Awake the god of day”
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Well, I have to say that I can relate a little to that guy Hamlet. Here are my stories, maybe Hamlet kept crowing about the bad vibe in Denmark, but let me tell you, it ain’t nuthin’ compared to the feathers that got ruffled when my father, Gallus Domesticus, went missing. All the hens are very sad, except, MY MOTHER!
My mother, Poullette, has now taken up with my uncle, Kokkoras, and he’s now Cock on the Block. What the story there - I KNOW THAT I DON’T LIKE IT!!
This whole situation is plucking me on my last plume, really getting my down and dander up!
The hens are upset, too. They’re laying eggs that are cracked, practlcally ham and egglettes!
My country cousins, Gall and Hane, are getting in on the action, too. They want me to pick a fight with Kokorras, but, my favorite chic, Oilasko, keeps saying Cock-A-Doodle DON’T!
I keep pacing and scratching….I gotta restore the pecking order right away……I will keep huffing and chuffing and squawking your way to let you know what’s going on!
You can see the original artwork that I have painted and I am going to have to sell stuff, so that I can hire someone, or go by myself, to figure out what's happened!
So, I’m going to need to do some digging here. I come from a long line of important avians….
the chickens FLOCK to US!
I heard a rumor from my mother’s friend, Chicken Little, that my mother, Poullette, was forced into an egg laying factory by her evil uncle Galo. She was very young, still just a pullet, when she was cooped up by Coq Chanceux, who ran the hen house.
There were a lot of bad birds there, but she did meet some good eggs…One of them was Cyw Iar, a Mother Hen with a welsh accent. (I will post a picture of her as soon as I can find one.)
The latest scoop is that my long lost sister, Flavia recently rejoined the flock. I haven't seen her since we were chicks. She was always so beautiful that she got swiped up by a Bird Seller. He had her trapped at the store, "A Gilded Cage." She's got some PLUCK because she got out and scratched her way home!
NO PALTRY POULTRY
After having a good long dinner of bananas, apples and beet greens with Flavia, and, my mother Poullette, I got a few more bits of information about Flavia's stint at The Gilded Cage. The Gilded Cage is located down Louisiana way, and Flavia was abducted one night when she had strayed from the coop. She had found a particularly beautiful blueberry bush and lost track of time and place as she contentedly picked off the berries, one by one. Late afternoon became evening and she realized that she was lost and was very scared, so she sat underneath the shrubs and stuck her head under her feathers and felt asleep. She's such a beauty, with her fancy colored feathers that she looked like a candy colored feather ornament as she lay on the ground. Anyway, she was awakened with a jolt as she felt herself being scooped up by the Bird Seller. A man wearing a big hat coat, the Bird Seller placed Flavia into a big covered basket with other chicks. She was too frightened to utter a peep.
My Skillset
Why Am I So Angry?
Why Am I So Angry?
I am sharp-eyed and very beaky! I can spot bugs and trouble a mile away~AND, there is TROUBLE IN THE COOP right now!
You can rely on me to figure it out!
My Goal
Why Am I So Angry?
My Goal
I am going to figure out what happened to my Dad, Gallus Domesticus, the King Rooster AND, I'm determined to take over the Coop!
I will make sure that I let you know what I find as soon I figure out the pecking order around here.
I want to let you know that I'm selling pictures of my family to
raise enough scratch to fund my investigation!
I
I am going to figure out what happened to my Dad, Gallus Domesticus, the King Rooster AND, I'm determined to take over the Coop!
I will make sure that I let you know what I find as soon I figure out the pecking order around here.
I want to let you know that I'm selling pictures of my family to
raise enough scratch to fund my investigation!
It's clear to me that I'm going to have to go off range to find my Dad, Gallus Domesticus. I may have to go down to Mexico, because I heard a rumor that he had been spotted at a Wing Bar south of the border. I may have to get my cousins to go with me. Even though it raises my hackles, I might have to ask Frango, my feathersome frenemy for help. I will keep you posted, so that I won't completely go missing!
COCK-A-DOODLE DO! QUIQUIRIQUI!COCORICO! OUR STORIES
HERE'S WHERE YOU GET THE SCOOP ON THE COOP!
POULLETTE'S STORY: LET'S GET THE PLUCK OUT OF HERE!
So, I’m going to need to do some digging here. I come from a long line of important avians….the chickens FLOCK to US!
I heard a rumor from my mother’s friend, Chicken Little, that my mother, Poullette, was forced into an egg laying factory by her evil uncle Galo Malo. She was very young, really just a pullet, when she was taken by Galo Malo. He noticed her loveliness and sweet nature and calculated that he could make some scratch by selling her to the highest bidder. Actually, the only bidder that he knew Coq Chanceux, who ran the Egg Factory. Like Galo Malo, Coq Chanceux was a bad bird, but unlike his friend in crime he wasn’t very bright—he ran a substandard operation that was slightly cracked.
There were a lot of bad birds there, but she did meet some good eggs…Two of them were Welsh, Cyw Iar, a Mother Hen and Cye Hwyaden, a Welsh Harlequin Duck. Apparently they introduced themselves to Poullete, saying, “Cymry ydym.” Which means, “We’re Welsh.” And then they would ask her what she was doing at the Egg Laying Factory.
Both were appalled when they learned that evil Uncle Galo Malo had done the dirty deed. He was a friend of Coq Chanceux,the slimy customer who ran the Factory.
Cyw Iar and Cye Hwyaden were determined to break out, clucking and quacking back forth hatching plans for escape. They would say, “Beth am gael y place all an o fan hen!” Or words to that effect, which means, loosely translated, “Let’s get the pluck out of here!”
Batty Hilda, was another Heroine! She was a tough old bird who had survived a neck-wringing and lived to scratch through another day. She was equally determined to crack the code on how to escape and fly the coop! These three birds took little Poullette under their wings and included her in their scheme.
HOW THEY DID IT!
Since Cye, Cyw and Batty Hilda had been there for a long time, they knew the ropes of how the factory operated. First, they had figured out how to get out of their cages-the most important thing! They knew the people who worked there, what time they arrived and what time they left. They knew where the loading docks were, what time the egg trucks arrived and the time they left. They knew who was nice and who was not, who was easy to fool and who was sharp. Thus, they knew which would be the best times to escape and they began to hatch a plan.
Their plan was to escape in the wee hours of the morning, when everyone - including the nightwatchman-was asleep! So, they began to hoard some of their daily food, squirreling it away underneath the hay so that they could take it with them when the time came. They timed it so that they would arrive at the door of loading dock just as the midnight egg truck was being packed. They scrambled behind a stack of old egg crates, hoping that they wouldn’t be heard. It was very quiet except for the noise of the workmen and an occasional snore from the night watchman. Just as the men were about to finish one of them noticed a pile of feathers and got suspicious. They four hens squeezed together as the big footed man stomped around, telling his partner that there was something strange going on…it was unusual to see so many feathers lying on the ground. The other laughed and made a comment about having chicken salad for breakfast, a thought that ruffled the birds’ feathers and made them quake where they stood. The two dock workers shifted some boxes around, coming within inches of the birds, but finally gave up the hunt and finished loading the egg crates onto the truck.
Now it was time to make their final escape. With extra food in their beaks and songs in their rapidly beating hearts, the three hens and one harlequin duck flew onto the back of the egg truck as it pulled out of the loading dock!
They buried their heads under their wings for the first few miles, just relieved to be free! And, then they noticed that the truck was approaching a Farmer’s Market on a river bank and decided this was a great place to jump, blend in for a bit and then run
away. So, as the truck took a hard turn (nearly cracking some eggs) the four feathered friends flew out and onto the pavement.
Luckily for them it was so early in the morning that no one was about. The ground was all damp with fog and a little slick with oil, and dark except for patches of light that of an occasional street lamp. Wandering around they could discern big bobbing shapes, which they figured were boats. They had heard Coq Chanceux and Galo Malo discuss boats and how they could swim through the water like giant ducks or geese. Finally, they found a ship painted with a picture of a Swan and decided that was the vessel that would carry them into their future. So, they hopped on and sailed away!
How Poullette met my father is a story for another day….
COCK-A-DOODLE DO! QUIQUIRIQUI!COCORICO! OUR STORIES
HERE'S WHERE YOU GET THE SCOOP ON THE COOP!
I finally convinced Flavia to tell me what the pluck happened to her, and her it is…..
FLAVIA’S TALE OF WOE
THE FLAVIA STORY - PART I
(Flavia wants to credit two of her favorite heroines, Vivian and Celeste. These strong women inspired Flavia to not just hang on, but to formulate excellent plans of action. Both ladies appeared in books by Barb Simmons, ‘The War Within,’ Vivian and ‘The Guardian,’ Celeste.)
To say that Flavia disappeared and then “just showed up” doesn’t do the story justice. It was so much more colorful and dramatic than that. You see, Flavia was always multi-hued (mostly yellows and pinks), curious and audacious—even as the DOWNIEST of chicks. Her vibrant plumage and bold personality set her apart from all the other hatchlings from the get-go.
One day she and some of the other little chicks wandered out of the coop into the surrounding countryside. Always adventurous, they were happy to be scratching fertile new ground, digging up grubs from the dark rich soil outside the barnyard. Big green leaves draped over and littered the path with berries and seeds. It was exotic and exciting as they wandered through the hopped in mud-luscious puddles before rolling around taking dirtbaths. feasting on a buffet of berries and seeds! They were frolicking so much that they forgot the time and before too long they noticed the sun slipping down below the horizon. The sky was inky blue black before too long scaring the little chicks. So, they huddled together under a bush and tucked themselves in for the night. The next morning all them were up with the sun except Flavia since she always loves her beauty sleep! They woke up, peeped around and then, forgetting my sister, made their way back to the coop. They really got squawked at when they arrived home. My mother and father were frantically worrying about Flavia and even left the barnyard to find her, but it was to no avail….because she was gone.
Just after the other chicks had left, a man in a big green hat showed up. His name is Alberto and he is from the Island of Alcatras in Costa Rica. His nickname is Bert Man from Alcatras and he loves birds. He loves rare and beautiful birds. Although Alcatras doesn’t have the bounty of birds that you can find elsewhere in Costa Rica, it has Ruby Hummingbirds and other stunners. Bert was in awe of avian creatures from an early age, and as he got older his tastes blossomed to include love of Macaws, Parrots, Herons,Toucans,Tanagers, and, of course, the rare and resplendent Quetzal!
But, Bert took one look at the pulchritudinous plumage on our sleeping Flavia and he just reached down and plucked her from the ground. She woke with a start and began peeping as loudly as she could. He popped her into a tiny cage in the back of his truck and motored off. Her bell-like peeps were very musical with a sweet lilting sound even when she was calling her little heart out. She peeped so long that her throat became very scratchy and she started losing her voice and eventually she sat still, like a tiny stone, sad and leaden behind bars — all her efforts were to no avail! Our Flavia was gone!
****************************************
Little Flavia was SO upset.
She peeped herself to sleep, lulled by the steady motion of the wheels of the truck as it traveled miles and miles. Days and nights, they travelled, they drove through forests, by lakes and streams, through cities and the countryside. She awoke once, noticing that the landscape had changed drastically, then quickly dozed off. Flavia finally woke up when she felt the truck halt, coming to a dead stop, heard the doors opening and felt her tiny cage being lifted through the air out of the vehicle. She immediately noticed the change in atmosphere to humid air that was thick with fragrant scents of flowers and spices.
“We’re Home!,” sang the Bert Man, as he carried her into a strange building that housed many other birds.
Flavia noticed that the building was filled with scads of other birds. She saw parrots, finches, parakeets, canaries, conures, cockatiels, but she was the only chicken. And, our little chicken, Flavia, was just as colorful, beautiful and exotic as all the other birds. She was a real find for him!!!
Bert placed Flavia’s cage next to some parrots. After listening to the parrots talking and whistling to each other, she began to understand their chatter. Not one to sit by and just listen, Flavia, using the parrots’ parlance began to ask questions of her avian neighbors. Starting with “Where AM I?” right through “How long have YOU BEEN HERE?” Flavia started a stream of questions that came almost too fast for the birds to answer.
What was the skinny on Bert? The Bert Man was an avian abductor and she was his latest catch! He brought her to his Bird Store, “THE GILDED CAGE” and they were in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was HARD to escape, the parrots shared with her. In their 6 month long tenure at “The Cage” only 1 bird had broken free and 15 had been sold. Despondent, Flavia listlessly pecked at some grain at the bottom of her cage, and then peeping a little, tucked her head down and went to sleep.
Every now and then a new bird would arrive at The Gilded Cage. They were always overwhelmed after having been shoved into a strange cage in this unusual aviary. Many times they had been pets whose “parents,” had passed away and all they could think about was “Home.”
Pretty Polly was one such bird. A stunning female Eclectus, brilliant Polly could swear like a sailor and learned to read by sitting on her “Mom’s” shoulder, perusing whatever was being proffered. “The War Within,” by Barb Simmons was a particular favorite!
(Polly’s ‘mother’ had omnivorous literary tastes and would bounce between all sorts of fiction and Schopenhauer.) Polly was a red-head, like Vivian, the heroine in “The War Within.” Polly idolized the athletic and caring redhead who fell in love with a wounded warrior in the book. Polly even convinced her “Mom” to install special set of weights so that she could work out like Vivian.
Polly arrived just after Flavia, and the became inseparable, or as inseparable as birds in different cages could be. Polly heard all about Flavia’s family and THE FLOCK, likewise, Flavia was tuned into Polly’s world and her favorite heroine, Vivian. They talked about it all the time, trying to be brave, kind and positive just like the vibrant Vivian!
I asked Flavia how her feathery neighbors influenced her outlook and actions. “They helped me think things through and be brave!”
Bert, on the other hand, was over the moon! He had acquired a true RARA AVIS and wanted everyone to know about it! Ever the entrepreneur and promoter, Bert took pictures of Flavia, his beautiful new bird and posted them all over town. He put fliers on lamp posts, in shop windows, bulletin boards and finally Bill Boards so that all New Orleans could come and admire her, because with her long eyelashes, and yellow and pink plumage, she was one alluring Avian!
People flocked into the Gilded Cage to get a glimpse of this Cute Chick! Flavia became the Toast of the Town. Young girls mimicked her hairdo, which was Feathered, and made sure that their eyelashes were as eye-catching as Flavia’s!
The noise of all this hubbub reached the ears of New Orleans’ most AMAZING, HANDSOME ROOSTER, and our cousin, CORUS! Corus, who is the King of the Krewe of Corus, is truly The Big Easy’s BIG ROOSTER! Originally from “Up North” came to town as a Cockeral and took The Crescent City by STORM! He sang from the rooftops, was a regular at the Jazz Clubs, where he often was a solo artist. He has been on the cover of DownBeak, a magazine for Musical Roosters and Jazz Loving Jays. His wit is irrepressible, his style is unimpeachable and his charm is incontrovertible and his feathers are in shades of green, gold and purple - just like Mardi Gras.
As I have stated, He has not only his own FLOAT, but he is the KING of his OWN KREWE!
He is one Bodacious Bird, second only to ME-Maurice!
But, I digress, Flavia’s pecking at me to get on the with story.
Corus was a young rooster when he and his family were sent down to New Orleans. As residents of a newly formed Petting Zoo, they were splendid and very appealing. By the time Flavia arrived, Corus was well established as a BIG ATTRACTION.
Hearing about this Charming Chicken set Corus back a bit. As a man about town, he was in on the news about all the Bird-Doings and what was up with the Peeps, too. Naturally he was very curious about this New Girl in Town, feeling like he had to meet her and, also, let her know that he was the KING around here! But, when he saw pictures of Flavia, it jogged some very old memories. She wasn’t a Pullet from his past, or even one of the very cute pet ducks with whom he had tete-a-teted, but she looked strangely familiar. Corus mentioned something about Flavia to his mother. His poor mother hen was a little ditzy these days, but she could recall the most obscure odds and ends. She took one look at Flavia’s picture and squawked, “Why that’s little Flavia, your cousin. I would recognize her feathers and eyelashes ANYWHERE! Why do you have a picture of her?”
GACK! Corus’ mother has always been A LITTLE MUCH!
But, I digress.
CORUS FOLLOWS HIS BEAK
Corus needed info about The Gilded Cage and the Bert Man, so he started making the rounds…hitting the usual circuit: clubs and shot houses and even consorting with his Voodoo friends, DayUs X Makena and his Lady Oshun, powerful practitioners of this ancient art. ( He had long ago made his peace with them, these days they hung out, smoked, drank and threw some bones. It was righteous!)
So, Corus arranged to visit with DayUs under the cover of darkness at a secret spot along the Mississippi. The night of their meeting the riverbank was dark, but fortunately not too muddy, as the moon hung in the misty sky. Corus and, his pal, Reggie (another fine feathered rooster), made their way to a ramshackle enclosure under an ancient majestic Live Oak tree dripping with Spanish Moss. They were just off River Road past the Chalmette Battlefield, at an eerie spot during the wee hours of the morning, when the spirits were out and about. Both brave roosters were a little on edge, their feathers ruffling in the heavy air that was almost electric with mystery. Corus, as usual, was following his beak, getting more information about The Gilded Cage and the Bert Man of Alcatras - intel that was critical to springing Flavia and the others from that dreadful aviary.
A sliver of light was visible under the broken, scratched door of the beat-up enclosure and the birds heard some cackling coming from inside. Scraping the door 8 times, Corus and Reggie tingled with a little fear as they waited for the door to be invited inside. As the portal hinged inward they were greeted by the wizened face of DayUs X Makena and the Lady Oshun, resplendent in gold and white, wearing a coral colored tignon lounged beside him fanning herself a beautiful gold abebe. He, too, made quite the impression, dressed in white, sitting on a woven mat, smoking a cigar, holding a bottle of rum in one hand and a pouch filled with white rice in the other. Powerful priest that he was, DayUs X had his craggy fingers on the pulse of The Big Easy and its’ surrounding territories. There was nothing that escaped his knowledge.
They were sitting in front of a kerosene lamp that lit the center of the shed.
“Come in, come in, my fearless feathered friends! It is so good to see you Corus and Reggie! It’s been way too long!” laughed DayUs, his voice as deep as the ocean. “I’m hearing that you have some questions about The Gilded Cage and its’ beautiful birds.”
Nodding his head, Corus said, “We want to free all the birds, especially my cousin Flavia, who was stolen by the Bert Man a few months ago and brought to his aviary here. I need to get advice about when is the best time to break them out, and, if there are any things that I should know about the Bert Man.”
Lady Oshun laughed gently, “Oye, Cher, I have a feeling this is all going to turn out just fine…” and then fanned herself some more. “The Bert Man is of little consequence to anyone…especially to you and your cousin, Flavia.”
Corus and Reggie began to scratch the dirt around the floor-they were a little nervous….
DayUs X invoked Papa Legba with special prayers and a shot of rum, asking him to open the gates to speak with the Obatala, asking for justice for Flavia and her feathered companions. The room was very quiet and suddenly the door opened with a WHOOOSH of wind that nearly blew them all over. DayUs’ voice became deeper and he prayed to Obatala for justice for the flock at The Gilded Cage, as well as for the date and time to spring the birds.
And there it was, as quick as a wink, Corus learned when he and his Krewe should storm The Gilded Cage, rescue Flavia and the other birds, setting them free and making things right.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
In the meantime, on the other side of New Orleans, two wonderful friends of the birds, Miss Katherine and Miss Kathi, had also checked out the newest arrival at The Gilded Cage. They knew Corus and most of the big-time birds in the Big Easy. Dedicated to liberating as many birds as possible, the two were most interested all the goings on in the Aviary. And, they visited frequently, talked with the birds, purchasing or purloining as many as they could, just so they could let them fly free.
Miss Kathi loved every bird, delighting in hearing their stories. And, in addition to being an avian aficionado, she knew they lay-of-the-land around New Orleans, establishing Safe Houses for escaped birds outside the City.
Miss Katherine’s home next to The Gilded Cage was a perfect temporary resting place for birds who had broken out. A beautiful rose trellis on her property abutted the aviary, so that fowls could fly or hop from the roof of their “prison” to the trellis and from there to freedom! Bowls of birdseed scattered throughout the yard, even under the bushes, made a charming sanctuary for avian creatures of all kinds. Often Miss Kathi and Miss Katherine worked in tandem, freeing their feathered friends and housing them until they could be transported back to their natural environments as quickly as possible
The ladies’ involvement assured the success of the birds’ flight from The Gilded Cage.
Bert Man was completely unaware of the intrigue that went on underneath his roof. You might say that he stuck his head in the sand from time to time, because he was so preoccupied with going out and finding fowl with brilliantly colored plumage. He did wonder from time to time about why some residents’ of The Gilded Cage mysteriously went missing. But he was quickly distracted by planning his next trip to Alcatras, other parts of Costa Rica, or anyplace else that boasted a bounty of birds. So, he was easily fooled!
HATCHING THE PLAN
Meanwhile, Miss Kathi, Miss Katherine, Corus and his flock, and the birds in The Gilded Cage hatched a plan. They settled on the next waxing gibbous moon to for the great escape. That way, there would be light, but all the crazy people of the night wouldn’t be out. Also, this date would give them more time to scratch around the place and come up with exit and entrance strategies.
Corus and his chorus went to see Miss Katherine a couple of days before they were going to spring the birds from the gilded cage. They had gotten a big truck and their friend, the unflappable Miss Kathi, agreed to transport the previously purloined birds to her safe houses and FREEDOM! She was the perfect person to execute the rescue to places in New Orleans, up into the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge, and Bayou Teche. What might have taken a less cocky rooster months to plan, was easy for Corus because he is so well-connected and had worked with the whole flock!
The moon was growing a little fatter each night, until it reached that beautiful, bright almost-full stage. The feathered friends knew that it was time to get those birdies out of that “gilded” nest! Sneaking into Miss Katherine’s yard, they sneaked and peeked through the fence at The Gilded Cage. Miss Kathi had already parked the truck behind the the trellis so they get the cluck out after the jig was up.
That night, at 9:00 p.m. the aviary was still open, since the Bert Man was entertaining some special customers who were collectors of Exotic Avifauna. They were quibbling about prices for Tanagers, Toucans and Flavia (!!!) and agreed that the collectors would come back in the morning to seal the deal. Corus was alarmed as he heard the discussion, knowing that they COULD NOT FAIL in their mission.
After the collectors left, the Bert Man dawdled as he rearranged the cages and puttered around the shop. It was after 10 when he left, locking the door behind him. Corus nodded to himself, because he had gotten copies of the keys to both the front and back doors—no feathers ruffled here,
THE BIRD BREAK-IN
The crew sprang into action, hopping over the fence, striding towards the back door. When police car drove by they backed themselves into the shadows for cover. They were breathing heavily as they slunk towards the door, key in beak, ready to break in. While they were slinking, Kathi drove the truck to the other side of the back door, so it was ready when the birds fled free .
The key fit the lock, click, they were In! The truck backed up to the door as it creaked open, and, wedged inside so the feathery flock could fly in, and they could all roll out together. Meanwhile, Corus was inside the aviary, where he hopped on the counter and crowed as loud as he could to wake all the birds up! And, wake they did! Squawking, squeaking, peeping, cawing and crowing all at once!
“Hello my friends! I am CORUS! The time for your liberation from the Bert Man and this place is NOW! AND, I’m also here to bring my cousin, Flavia, home. Since you took part in planning this operation, you know that now is the time to open the doors to your cages and proceed into the truck in an orderly fashion. As you fling the doors open, I want you to fly towards the light in the back of the truck, and find a place to roost. We have plenty of food and water, supplied by our friend, Miss Katherine, for everyone. We will find places for you to live-it is all taken care of...but, you need to shake a tail feather because we don’t have much time!”
Corus heard the cooing sounds of happiness from the crowd and he smiled to himself! Suddenly a loud squawk came from the other side of the store, “Corus, it’s ME! Flavia, your cousin! I’m opening my cage right now! Thank you for coming for me!”
“Come here, Flavia!,” crowed Corus.“I’m on the counter in the back-just come back here as soon as your cage is open” he bellowed over the din of the creaking cage doors.
And, then, voila! Corus noticed an Avian Vision appear before him. Pink and yellow feathered with long eyelashes, Flavia hopped onto the counter and flapped her way up to join her equally colorful cousin. She gave him a peck on the cheek and they hugged for the first time in years!
As the truck idled, Kathi went around the back to make sure that all the avians were aboard. Then she peeled out, taking to them to freedom in parts unknown!
The Bert Man of Alcatras, A.K.A. The Man in the Green Hat
COCK-A-DOODLE DO! QUIQUIRIQUI!COCORICO! OUR STORIES
READYING FOR THE TRIP
After going to the “Coop de Grace” a famous local Chicken Spa and taking a nice dirt bath with the boys, Gal, Hane and Rusticus, we settled in for some grub and began formulating the plan.
We have to cover a lot of territory, figuratively and literally. The laughing gull was a little hard to understand because he chuckles as he squawks, but he told me that Dad is staying at a resort near Cancun. According to him, my Pop seems pretty happy and doesn’t seem too anxious to come home. This is really alarming, because I think Kokkorras is bad and he doesn’t keep The Flock in order, at least not as well as my Dad. All Kokkorras does is strut around crowing and attacking other pullets and roosters. I don’t know what my Mom sees in him….but then, she did have that evil uncle, Gallo Malo…maybe it runs in the family….uh oh.
The Boys and I agreed that the rails were the best way for us to make our way from Virginia to Cancun. Our first stop would be at The Chicken Ranch, a chicken sanctuary run by Farmer Fred and his wife, Miss Sally. Their motto is “A Chicken may take a likken, but we make sure it keeps on ticken” They are such sweet people! They take care of so many chickens on the run. So, we decided that The Chicken Ranch would be our first stop, because it is on the way and a good place to source provisions for the trek ahead. I’ve been saving scratch and more. So have The Boys, but we’re going to need every little bit!
So, here’s the plan: we ride the rails down to Greensboro, North Carolina, where we get off and stay at The Chicken Ranch for a few days. From there we’ll follow this route:
Greensboro, NC to Atlanta, Ga.
Atlanta, Ga. to Birmingham, Ala.
Birmingham, Ala. to Tuscaloosa, Ala.
Tuscaloosa, Ala. to Hattiesburg, Miss.
Hattiesburg,Miss. to New Orleans, La.
New Orleans, La. to Brownsville, Texas
Brownsville, Texas to Matamoros , Mexico
Matamoros, Mexico to Veracruz, Mexico
Veracruz, Mexico to Chichen Itzá and Cancun
Once we find Dad and convince him to come home, we’ll fly from Cancun to Tampa, Florida and visit our cousin, Gallo Loco in Ybor City. From there we’ll fly home.
THE BOYS....
My crew, the boys, consists of my cousins Rusticus, Hane and Gall. Corus, also a cousin, is great, too, but I've known Rusticus, Hane and Gall since we were chicks.
Next Stops
THE CHICKEN RANCH, GREENSBORO, NORTH CAROLINA
We hopped on board the train, laden with luggage and determination on our way to FIND MY FATHER and BRING HIM HOME! We jumped off the train in Greensboro, North Carolina, where we stopped at The Chicken Ranch. A very cool place to rest up, stock up and refine our plan. It’s run by Farmer Fred and, his wife, Miss Sally — such a wonderful people! They always take such good care of their own chickens, as well as, visitors like us!
We had planned to stay for a couple of days enjoying comforts that we won’t see for much of the rest of the trip. BUT, little did we know that Frango, my “Frenemy,” would be at the Ranch when we arrived. He is Such an AGGRESSIVE Featherman! He’d just as soon peck your eyes out as look at you, and he was always that way. So dramatic and MOODY! I remember him charging me, jumping and flapping his wings at me one minute and then offering me a worm the next….WHAT a Bizarre Bird! That’s why I call him “Frenemy,” I never know what I’m going to get from him.
So, it was indeed a shock to see Frango milling about in the Flock. I picked up some squawk that he’d just returned from having to do a stint in Rooster Rehab. He looked a tiny bit more mellow (not a lot, though). But, we ALL know how moody and unpredictable he can be…God help you if you run into Frango on a bad day! when I looked at him scratching around I decided to look the other way. There was just no point in doing anything that would compromise our mission. Gall and Hane followed me, but Rusticus started flapping his wings and dancing around. Hearing the whooshing of air and scritch on the ground, Frango looked up with a glint in his eye and then looked down. He turned to face ME (not Rusticus), puffing up his hackles, lowering his tail and pretended to peck something on the ground. What a Poser! I knew what he was doing…readying himself for the attack — THAT’S WHAT FRANGO WAS DOING!
LUCKILY, a clutch of chickens started clucking at something on the other side of the barnyard and the tension was broken. I hissed at Rusticus that it was time to fly out of there….so it’s back on the road for us.
Vera Cruz to Cancun
Rickety-clickety clackety-click, the train rocked back and forth. Images of farms, factories, lakes, rivers, trees, coastlines, arid countryside, cities and towns blurred the windows mesmerizing the band of roosters into fitful sleep. Occasionally waking, they ruffled feathers by crowing a little and quickly silencing themselves after being scorched by withering looks from their fellow passengers….those finicky hens!
So, things were pretty calm until they got to VERACRUZ, Mexico.
Veracruz to Chichen Itza
The train rocked gently as it clickety-clacked down the tracks under a moonlit Mexican sky. Chickens were sleeping all around Maurice and his posse. Perching on the overhead luggage rack or nestling together on tray tables, snoring and clucking to beat the band, the harmonic chickens synchronized their sounds creating a multi-feathered symphony of sorts. The train car, lit with running lights on the floor below and moon beams coming through the windows, was peaceful, gentle and tranquil until the engine shuddered to a halt and the conductor called out “Vera Cruz!” Shaken awake, the travelers rose up sleepily on their haunches, stretching, then turning around, trilling, chirping, flapping their wings and craning their necks to see Who Was Strutting into the Train. HE was magnificent, (but not as colorful and beautiful as Maurice, mind you)…this large black rooster with a gold earring and an eye-patch who dominated the car. “Qui Quiri QUI! Soy Juan David del Corso y Violetta, el Gallo MAS MAGNIFICO en todo el mundo! Mis padres fue gallos y gallinas picarones en los barcos piratas!I am a Direct Descedant of Gallo Majestico and the Fair Gallina Gloriosa who sailed the Caribbean under the Burgundy Cross of the Fearsome Sea Rover, Juan Corso!"All the loud clucking died down as he inhabited the spotlight, crowing on about his pirate heritage and how he was related to one of the Caribbean’s most notorious corsairs, Juan Corso.
Maurice flapped his wings a bit, stood up a strutted to “El” Juan David, glaring him in the eye. Juan David shook his head so that he could look through his good eye and take in the brilliantly hued bird in front of him. The fellow travelers, all of them avian, shut their beaks so that there was absolute silence all around. Impenetrable tension filled the railcar and all the roosters, except Maurice and Juan David, stood myopically close to one another, almost beak to beak. Maurice’s comb shook a little and Juan David’s earring stirred slightly and glinted. Juan David hissed in heavily accented English, “WHOOOO Might YOU BE?”
“I am Maurice, Son of Gallus Domesticus, King of the Flock, and I am on my way to find my father. I am THE most MAGNIFICENT ROOSTER IN THE WORLD! I am young and strong and beautiful,” crowed Maurice, lifting his head high.
Bellicose and bold, the birds began slowly circling around each other while the chickens watched nervously. They were taking small jabs with their heads…moving cautiously.
Meanwhile, Gall, Hane and Rusticus pushed their way through the piles of living feathers that separated them from the action. They were hoping to convince the pair of roosters that there was nothing to be gained by fighting on a train, despite the fact that some young cockerels in surrounding seats had started betting chicken feed on who would win.
Suddenly the train SCREECHED to a HALT throwing everyone about.
It was raining chickens!
The cockerels fell from the seats, the roosting hens crashed down onto the seats below, the aisle that ran the length of the car was awash in chicken feed and bags of corn. Maurice and Juan David hit the floor hard, dazed and bewildered into silence. Juan David’s tricorn hat even fell off, making him look like a dunderfeatherhead.
Taking in the disarray, the poultry all asunder, the conductor, who appeared in the doorway of the car, announced that they stopped because a Chicken Bus was straddling the tracks ahead. “Fortunately we stopped soon enough to avoid injuries - no damage to the Bus or its’ occupants, but, it will make us run a little late.”
A moment of silence occurred and then the squawking ensued —- squawk, Squawk, SQUAWK!!!!
Sighing audibly, the conductor turned from the melee, waving in a new group of travelers as they ambled aboard.
A big fat hen, Gallina Guadalupe, galumphed into the car with her little chicks, Polluela Ximena, Polluela Fernanda and Polluela Taca. Guadalupe had beautiful white feathers that were tinged with a sort of cerulean blue. Her sweet, self-satisfied expression was heightened by her many chins made it clear that she didn’t miss a meal. Ximena and Fernanda silently shadowed their mother, but Taca was another matter altogether. Tiny, curious, Taca was not easily corralled, insisting on seeing every part of the compartment. She was immediately hopping around, exploring the railcar, peeping merrily as she went.
Taca was on the move and quickly, out of her mother’s sight.
Guadelupe turned to look for the chick, no Taca. Sighing, she began calling, “TaCITA,” Guadelupe’s voice was mellifluous as she sought out to her littlest chick. “TaaaaCita…where are you my baby Polleula? Taca, we must find a place to sit among all these birds!”
She was correct, it was pretty tight quarters-hens, cockerels, pullets still gobsmacked from the train’s abrupt halt, were squeezed together beak- to- tail and leg to leg — those resting spots were as rare as hens’ teeth.
Meanwhile, little Taca hopped over to Maurice and Juan David who were slowly gathering their wits about them. Maurice was silent and Juan David start began burbling on about Gallo Majestico, Gallina Gloriosa and their sea-faring, privateer past.
“Ah, the Corsican Captain, Juan Corso was really something else. He missed his native land and thus, sailed under the Corsican Flag, the Cross of Burgundy. He was MOST SAVAGE and rebellious! Corso landed on Hispaniola and raided, taking so many slaves and prisoners that the French government feared they would have to go war with him. He sailed around the Yucatan, in and out of Vera Cruz until he sailed into history when his ship was wrecked in 1685.
Gloriosa was STUNNING and STATUESQUE, feathered as she was, in white, with brilliantly white feathered boots. Sometimes they called her ‘La Calzetuda’ because of those ‘boots.’ She, along with the other hens, supplied the Sea Rovers with eggs to go with their hardtack.
"Majestic was tall with iridescent blue-black feathers, he boasted a 5 inch red comb that he wore as a dazzling crown. His cry was big and bold, catching the ears of people and animals leagues away.
One of their sons, the BRILLIANT Pollo Del Mar (Chicken of The Sea), was hatched while they were sailing with Juan Corso. He was Brilliant, SIMPLY BRILLIANT!
"Luckily Gallo Majestico, Gallina Gloriosa and young Pollo Del Mar escaped from the ship during a storm near Vera Cruz. They were very smart birds, above average chickens who came to the conclusion, that despite their love for the salt spray and the pirate life, they were better off on land. They had seen too many of their poultry pals roasted for dinner. They plotted their escape….the best time would be in the midst of a crisis, like a big storm that was close to shore. They were just waiting for their chance, and, trying to keep a low profile on the boat. Fortune came to their rescue when the storm brought them close to shore. Knowing it was their best opportunity, they looked at each other, jumped and flapped their way up to the beach.”
“TAAAA-CAAAA! TAAAA- CITAAAAA,” Gallina Guadalupe wobbled along, summoning her chick in a singsong tone. As she approached Maurice, his crew, Juan David Del Corso, little Taca, scooted farther back under the seat next to the Roosters. Captivated as she was by the story, she didn’t want to return to her mother and sisters just yet.
Guadelupe stopped at the edge of the fabulously feathered circle, hearing Juan David recount his ancestors’ exploits.
“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but hear you droning on and on. I’m sure everyone is a bit bored with these tall tales, and I’M LOOKING FOR MY DAUGHTER! Have you seen my little Taca? She’s brown and fluffy, with beautiful gray eyes and the cutest little beak….”
Juan David stopped, glinting his good eye at Guadelupe, “WHHH-AATTT do you mean, ‘DRONING ON’ ? The story of MY FAMILY is the Story of THIS LAND! The Del Corso y Violettas, and the Del Mars are the FOUNDING Flock of the YUCATAN!!!! WHHH-AATTT DO I CARE FOR YOU OR LITTTTLE DAUGHTER?! You are NOTHING to ME!”
Guadelupe leaned back. Regarding Juan David with a cool, almost casual stare, she clucked, “I AM LOOKING FOR MY DAUGHTER, and, YOU, SIR, mean NOTHING TO ME! In fact, you put the YUCk in YUCATAN! “
Turning away she exclaimed, “Now, where was I….TAAAA-CAAAA!”
Chicken Cogitations
Musings on THE BIG Questions, like, WHICH CAME FIRST - the Earth or the WORM? Can an egg roll up hill? Why did the worm cross the sidewalk? And, more....
Taca and A New Development
Marinero and El Capitan, Pilots on the Playa de Pollos
A Bit About Gallus Domesticus
Taca cringed at the sound of her mother’s loud, mellifluous, yet oddly grating voice (which sounded sort of like a Coloratura Diva on acid). She slid under the nearest seat, out of sight, though surely not out of mind. Smotherhood was Guadelupe’s M.O., and being scooped back under her mother’s prodigious wing was the last place she wante
Taca cringed at the sound of her mother’s loud, mellifluous, yet oddly grating voice (which sounded sort of like a Coloratura Diva on acid). She slid under the nearest seat, out of sight, though surely not out of mind. Smotherhood was Guadelupe’s M.O., and being scooped back under her mother’s prodigious wing was the last place she wanted to be. Guadelupe was a fine, feathery mother, but, so….ANNOYING!
Tired of hearing that ridiculous pirate, Juan David del Corso y Violetta, ramble endlessly about The Glory Days of his flock, Maurice stood up, flapped his wings, stretched his legs and puffed out his chest. Maurice was feeling feisty and tried to start strutting around despite being encumbered by the small space that surrounded him. He was standing next to the seat under which Taca was hiding. But, scrappy Maurice was undeterred by his lack of geography and, thus, opened his beak and spat out a litany of his own illustrious avian ancestry.
“So WHAT if your feathery forebears sailed with that snaggletoothed, scalawagging, cursed corsair Juan Del Corso? My background is every bit as remarkable, interesting and more important than yours! So what if they My flock is FABULOUS and LEGENDARY! We trace our line all the way back to CHANTICLEER who RULED THE ROOST in the 1300s, and WHO is the MOST FAMOUS ROOSTER OF ALL TIME!
“Keep your Spanish sputtering to yourself….” Maurice ended his screed.
“QUE? WHAT?! You stupid pathetic overblown bag of FEATHERS!!!,” growled Juan David.
Throwing down the gauntlet again, Maurice retorted, “THE ONLY THING GOOD ABOUT YOUR FAMILY, ESPECIALLY CHICKEN OF THE SEA, is that he’s been CANNED!”
That really did it! Now, in a rambunctious rage Juan David charged at Maurice, bobbing his head back and forth. Giving a low growl that grew into a primordial scream, the Pirate Rooster flapped his wings, plunging ahead.
Maurice, no dummy, dodged the assault, and scooted away from the seat.
Juan David’s eyepatch put him at distinct disadvantage. A half-blind bird can get into trouble and, in this case, Juan David ran into the bench and, falling backward, his claws slid under the seat hit the Baby Taca.
“EEK! Help! Ayudame! POR FAVOR! PUH-LEASE!,” bescreechingly peeped Taca.
The Little Chick’s plea cut through the pulsating tension created by profuse growls, hisses, shaking waddles, shuddering combs, flapping wings and stunned everyone into silence.
For a moment nobody did anything. Feathers drifted lazily through the air; the train rumbled along, and Taca hopped over Juan David’s legs. She nimbly avoided his claws and clambered onto the Pirate’s chest. Staring at him, then directing her gaze at Maurice, she sighed,
“If you two keep fighting my mother, Guadelupe, is going to come back to see what’s going on.
Do you want that? I CERTAINLY DON’T! I spend my days trying to get AWAY from her. Ever since my father left, I’ve been trying to flee the nest and find him.”
Maurice cocked his head at hearing this. Juan David, his tricorn hat, askew, blinked his good eye.
Taca bounced down onto the ground between the two big birds and shed a tear.
Juan David stood up and looked at the Baby Chick.
“Eh, Polluela, what is your name? What is your Daddy’s name?”
“My name is Taca. We’re from Vera Cruz. My father is Capitan. I also have a brother named Marinero. They are both missing. Xano, the Yellow-Lored Parrot told us they had been seen near Chichen Itza, maybe at Playa de los Pollos. So, now we’ve gone to find them.”
Maurice, listening to this exchange, cocked his head in the other direction, spoke, “My father is also missing. Laughing Gull told me that he might be down here, in the Yucatan.”
Cocking her little head, Taca, asked, “What is YOUR Daddy’s name?”
“Gallus Domesticus. I miss him so much! And, so does the rest of The Flock!”
“I think I’ve heard of him…I think I overheard Xano mentioning that name in conjunction with my father….they maybe together.”
Starting at this information, Maurice gave a happy crow, which, even the pirate couldn’t begrudge.
“I know Chichen Itza and Playa de los Pollos very well. I Declare A TRUCE and will help you both find your Fathers,” barked Juan David Del Corso y Violetta!
“And, Little Taca, we must tell your Mother,” Maurice added.
A Bit About Gallus Domesticus
Marinero and El Capitan, Pilots on the Playa de Pollos
A Bit About Gallus Domesticus
Meanwhile……..
There are rumors flying about the Yucatan Peninsula. The talk is of a rare and magnificent rooster, wearing sun glasses, who has appeared quite suddenly, as if from otherworldly mists. Indeed when he emerged from the Calakmul Jungle, riding astride a jaguar, with a retinue of Parrots, Toucans and one Ocellated Turkey it was
Meanwhile……..
There are rumors flying about the Yucatan Peninsula. The talk is of a rare and magnificent rooster, wearing sun glasses, who has appeared quite suddenly, as if from otherworldly mists. Indeed when he emerged from the Calakmul Jungle, riding astride a jaguar, with a retinue of Parrots, Toucans and one Ocellated Turkey it was a sight to behold. Regal of stature, and gazing solemnly ahead, his silence spoke loudly of his dignity. The retinue harmonized their calls and squawks, together creating a hymn about the peace of the jungle. Who was this mysterious, almost mythic, certainly epic creature? Was he a manifestation of Kukulcan, the Mayan Creator God, emerging from the rain forest, bringing great good fortune to the world?
Marvelous…Miraculous… Magical, and Head Turning, the cortege drew the attention of every eye around. There was stunned silence as the entourage moved slowly towards the coast. VERY IMPRESSIVE. It was like a Dream….or MAYBE the SECOND COMING.
Suddenly, the bubble of quietude shattered when Laughing Gull shreaked, “HEEEYYY GALLUS DOMESTICUS! WHAT’S UP! WHAT are YOU doing here? And, What’s up with riding on a Jag?”
Gracefully, Gallus Domesticus peered upwards, “ First of, can you lower your voice? And, please, don’t mention the jaguar …he’s pretty sensitive and can get his hackles up, which would be completely terrible for me!
“I just really needed to get away. I came to find the factions of the flock very vexing. Such petty pecking at this and that and each other. It got to be SO BORING.”
Sighing, he continued, “ I needed a rest, a respite, an intermission…” cocking his head, lifting a feather to his beak, Gallus declared, “…A VACAY! I heard there were many fine resorts in the area, so, I made my way to this lush, tropical paradise. I stopped in to see the wonders of Calakmul and met these fine folks.”
Gallus waves his wing around, indicating his entourage.
Laughing Gull, his love for gossip piqued, swooped down so that he could fly closer to Gallus Domesticus and to get the skinny on this situation. “Now I’m closer, the better to hear you squawk and Mr. Jaguar walks. Where are you going?”
“My friends here have suggested a couple of high class hotels that cater to our birds of a feather, and animals in general,” replied Gallus.
“Which ones?,” laughed the Gull.
“Well, there’s ‘Playa del Pollo Beach Club’, which, they tell me, is perfectly lovely. And, the ‘Itza Chicken Resort’ near Chichen Itza, a Five Claw Resort. I’m leaning towards that one. They are known for having a fantastic spa and excellent dirt baths.” Gallus Domesticus shivers with delight at the thought of a delightful dirt bath.
Laughing Gull considered Gallus Domesticus and this entire state of affairs. Something was tickling his bird brain…and then, remembering, “I think I heard that your son, Maurice, who is, as we all know, an angry, choleric young rooster…I think Maurice is upset that you’re gone and has set out to find you.”
“Hmmmm,” mused Gallus Domesticus. “I’m sorry to hear that. I slipped away very quickly and quietly. You know, like they say, ‘A Thief in the night.’ I didn’t want to upset anyone. My brother, Kokkoras, came to visit, and I felt like I could get away for a while. Hmmmm.”
Then, Maurice’s Father, heaved a great sigh, “But, ‘onward and upward,’ as they say. I intend to get to the coast and rest. If you see him, tell him how to find me.”
With that, the troupe proceeded, making their way towards Merida, the Capital City, AND the coast.
Marinero and El Capitan, Pilots on the Playa de Pollos
Marinero and El Capitan, Pilots on the Playa de Pollos
Marinero and El Capitan, Pilots on the Playa de Pollos
While Gallus Domesticus and his acolytes paraded towards the coast, two handsome roosters, Avian Airlines pilots, cooled their heels at Playa de Pollos’ popular watering hole, the Junglefowl Bar.
“Double Trouble” some might say about this downy duo, but that was a bit of an exaggeration!
As Father and Son, they were AMAZINGLY alike, with
While Gallus Domesticus and his acolytes paraded towards the coast, two handsome roosters, Avian Airlines pilots, cooled their heels at Playa de Pollos’ popular watering hole, the Junglefowl Bar.
“Double Trouble” some might say about this downy duo, but that was a bit of an exaggeration!
As Father and Son, they were AMAZINGLY alike, with their dark blue plumage and the fact that both were pilots… but that’s where the resemblance stopped.
Marinero, the son, a cockerel, was young, handsome, thought he held the world in his beak and tended to be a bit impetuous. His father, El Capitan, was more conservative in his approach. But, it was almost impossible to tell them apart. In fact, after being mistaken for his son for the umpteenth time, El Capitan lost his temper, spitting out, “NO SOY, Marinero!!! SOY CAPITAN! SOY CAPITAN!!!!,” causing the inquisitive offender scuttle away.
Making the scene at the Junglefowl, Marinero scanned the bar, searching for his drink-meister. All he saw was a veru unassuming duck, quietly waddling around serving the customers at the tables. Nudging his Dad, “Hey Papi, is that the Bartender carrying that tray?”
“Well, mijo, if it looks like a duck…or should I say Bartender…then it probably is.”
“Señor Pato, can we order some drinks?” Marinero called out to the patient Pato.
Pato looked up, lifting his beak, and quackd out, “Name your poison, hombres.”
“I’ll wet my whistle with some of that good old Watermelon Juice,” El Capitan answered.
“How ‘bout setting me up with a Goats Milk Cocktail - that would go down real smooth,” replied Marinero.
So now, ensconced at the bar, El Capitan sighed into his watermelon juice and pushed his cap back up off his forehead. “Oye, mijo, ….it feels so nice to have some quiet! I adore your mother, but sometimes she is a little loud, my Guadelupe.” Sipping the juice, he grimaced and scratched his head.
Marinero leaned back and looked out to the beach, “What about Ximena, Fernanda and Taca, Papi? Don’t you miss them, too?”
“OF COURSE, I DO, Mijo! But everything has been so HECTIC with the move and this upcoming flight for us! I haven’t had time to think, much less BREATHE! I haven’t gotten my feet wet for many moons, because we’ve been flying over land for years. This trip to Ybor City is going to be SOMETHING. AND, it’ll be your first flight over water,” said Capitan, pulling a watermelon cube from his drink and popping it into his beak.
“I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little nervous - but it will be fine,” said Marinero.
Shifting, he said, “Papi, it’s GOOD to get out! I LIKE this place. It’s pretty chill,” and sipped his cocktail, looking around.
“But, hey, Papi, I want to go talk to those chicks over there - you know the two who’re lying out, soaking up the rays,” Marinero started walking and moved his aviator sunglasses further down his beak.
Pato, the bartender, waddled up and down, wiping the bar, “Another round? Water? Frozen fruit? A goat’s milk cocktail? What will it be?”
“Yep-PERS,” Marinero returning to the bar and stretching, “I’d love some frozen grapes AND, I want to order a round for those pretty little chickies over there- the ones who’re lying out.”
Nodding, Pato, started making the drinks. “They come here a lot. I think they work at ‘ITZA CHICKEN,’ that big resort near Chichen Itza.”
Marinero, “Isn’t that where Gallus Domesticus, our passenger is staying?”
“Hmmm,” muttered El Capitan. “You’re correct….what a small world.”
Drinks in hand, Marinero stood up a little straighter, and got ready to strut his stuff over to the ladies. He was big and feathery - plumes galore - quite a sight in his uniform, airline cap and aviator sunglasses!
“Eh, Señor!” Pato called out to the roaming rooster. “Señor, take it easy! Those chicks are sisters and their brother is Gallo Gigantico and he doesn’t take no stuff from nobody!”
Marinero just turned and smiled as he strutted away.
El Capitan looked at his drink, “Mijo-You don’t know what you might be getting into! But, HEY, what do I know! You’re only young once.”
Calling to the Bartender,“Senor Pato, you can hit me again. But, this time make it a goat’s milk cocktail - light on the water. Shaken….not stirred.”
Chicks chirping on the beach made a sweet cacophony that caught El Capitan’s ear. Following the sounds, he noticed a mother hen and her brood, which made him feel nostalgic. Missing Guadelupe and the girls, especially Baby Taca, he wiped a little tear away from the side of his beak. Then he turned to look at Marinero who was strutting his way over to the beauty queens communing with the sun and the surf. El Captain shook his head and hoped that his son wasn’t in over his head! Protective brothers could be bad news,
“Talk about getting your feet wet….” El Capitan muttered under his breath.
THE SAGA CONTINUES....
IN THE TRAIN STATION
Smoke, fog, the hissing of trains stopping and starting shocked the senses of a motley sextet of feathery friends. Led by a tiny Chick, the group hopped off the train on a misty evening in Merida. Pillowy fog rolled in from the Gulf, making it hard to see your feathers in front of your face. The avian gang stuck together so no one disappeared into the soup.
Taca was the tip of the spear, bouncing ahead of the rest of the little flock, but, it was hard to match her pace. Maurice and Juan David del Corso y Violetta were next and “the boys” Gall, Hane and Rustic’s brought up the rear. They were quite a sight, those beaky, colorful, salty roosters in tow behind a blonde baby chicken.
“TACA!” squawked Maurice, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
Irked, she turned her head, and peeped back, “TO FIND MY DADDY, EL CAPITAN, oh, and my brother, Marinero, too.”
“I KNOW….but do you know WHERE THEY ARE?” Maurice persisted.
The troupe was stopped on the platform under a barely-visible sign. Rusticus looked up, reading,
“The sign with the arrow facing left says Celestun. The sign with the arrow facing right is to a bunch of places: Playa de Pollos, ITZA CHICKEN Resort and Spa, Rio Lagartos and Cancun.”
Looking up and remembered, Taca replied.“I overheard my mother talking, she said that Daddy and Marinero were going to Playa de Pollos, but they were going to fly some very import Rooster to Ybor City. I think she said they were going to pick him up at that ITZA CHICKEN place…”
Hane, “That sounds like an art gallery…”
“Or, a maternity ward,” said Gall.
“That reminds me, ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg?’,” Rusticus chimed in and the whole group cracked up in laughter.
“But, I know this place,” crowed the handsome pirate Juan David del Corso. With a flourish of his feathery hand, he whipped out his compass, stating, “AND, I can get us there!”
Taca peeped softly, “But, I want to see my Daddy….”
“HOLD IT EVERYONE!,” shouted Maurice. His voice quelling the cackling that surrounded him.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Taca, did you say your father and brother were going to fly
an important rooster to Ybor City?”
Getting ready to cry, Taca nodded.
“Well, let’s go to Playa de Pollos first. If Taca’s father and brother are there, they can tell us who they are going to fly to Ybor City. My father’s WILD cousin is in Ybor City. He’s really a trip. They don’t call him Gallo Loco to for nothin’…” Maurice explained.
Juan Del Corso y Violette was decisive, “ I have an excellent sense of direction - plus, we can follow the signs. So, I say, let’s GO THEN! ANDALE!!!”
So they began their trek to Playa de Pollos, crashing through the cumulous fog.
The City of Merida, normally so bright and sunny, “The White City,” with it’s white limestone paint covering nearly every inch of the town, was gloomy, socked in as it was with vaporous clouds. Making their way through the city, they stumbled into the square housing Cathedral of Merida on the Plaza Grande.
“Where are we?” chirped Taca.
“This looks like a big church…I’ve heard of them…look, there’s a sign
A cloaked figure peered around the edge of a doorway, spotting the band of feathers. He rubbed his downy wingtips together and grinned evilly at what he was about to do.
THE EVIL GALO MALO APPEARS
Maurice and his crew jumped back as they were assaulted by a bizarre bird clad in a hot pink blanket (or was it a cloak?). With his great beak, red, yellow and orange feathers, all purple-y around the eyes he was sinister, but looked stupid, wrapped in that pink blanket. Who was this
giant avian antacid tablet, this fluffy bottle of pepto bismal (except he was pepto DISMAL)?
The bird’s evil face glowered at Maurice, then turning his glare to first to Juan David and then settled on Taca. He was malevolence personified.
“Great nephew, I’ve been looking for you high and low…everywhere. So, I decided to open my ears and what do I hear but all this clucking about a rooster run amok, searching for his daddy.” sneered Galo Malo.
Taca, normally so bold, made herself tinier (if that was possible) and started edging behind Maurice.
Maurice, stalwart as ever, tossed his head “ Oh, it’s you Bad Uncle, Galo Malo. Huh. I’ve heard about you all my life - none of it good. Why are you looking for me and what the heck are you doing all dressed up in that putrid puce blanket?”
Questionable fashion choices notwithstanding, Galo Malo drew himself up and looked down on his nephew, laughing softly,“I’m always on the lookout for opportunities to shake things up and ‘thin out the flock,’ as it were. When I heard that big mouth, unfunny Laughing Gull squawk about your so-called ‘Quest’ I saw a golden opportunity to ‘kill two birds with one stone.’”
“What in the name of all that is good and holy are you flapping your beak about?” Maurice screeched, a little unnerved and impatient to get out of there.
In the meantime the Pirate, Juan David, followed at a distance by Gal, Hane and Rusticus started moving towards The Evil Galo Malo.
Unaware of, or maybe just disregarding, the other birds, The Evil one, spat, “How can you even ask such a ridiculous question! I MEAN YOUR MOTHER! I sold her for GOOD MONEY to Coq Chanceaux and that Egg Laying Factory and then she goes ON THE LAM! Don’t you realize that I’ve been hunted and haunted by him for years because he WANTS HIS MONEY BACK!!!
And, now that the circle has turned I am again presented with possibility of ‘making things right’!”
Leaping forward and reaching around Maurice, he snatched Taca and tucked the tiny bird under his cloak, making tracks away from them. “Thank you NEPHEW! You have made it easy for me to SETTLE MY DEBT! AND, as you may have heard, ‘a bird in the hand is worth the whole flock….’”
“STOP!!!! THIEF!!!” Maurice was pell mell after them.
“VARLET! RAPSCALLION!! SCALLIWAG! I WILL PUT YOU IN YARD ARMS!!!” crowed Juan David….” I will make you PAY!!!”
Gal, Hane and Rusticus were hot on their heels, flapping their wings to beat the band.
TACA THINKS FAST
Little Taca was frightened. At first, peeping loudly, she soon became silent, trying to assess the current state of affairs. Despite being hidden under the hot pink cloak visibility she occasionally caught glimpses of the crowded streets of Merida through which they were hurdling.
At first there so many noises and crowds that she realized no one could hear her peeping. She decided to close her beak, realizing that her frantic peeping could only be heard when they were surrounded by quiet. A quick-thinking little thing, she figured out how beat the ghastly Galo Malo at this own game.
He kept running, but the world sounded a little quieter to Taca. As noises abated and cloak kept flapping, she noticed that Galo Malo seemed to running out of breath—“YAY! That big meanie was slowing down!”
“Hmmm,” she pondered, “Maybe I can peck him as we round a corner. Maybe that will make him release me or fall down or something.”
And, as if the Heavens heard her thoughts, sensed her dilemma, the sky cracked open like an egg unleashing torrents of rain down on The Evil Galo Malo and his victim.
GALO MALO NABBED AND HIS WINGS ARE "CLIPPED"
MEET CAPITAN PIES DEL POLLO (Captain Chicken Feet)
CRASHING AND "BURNING"
Galo Malo was running along so hard, with no place to go other than what was directly in front of them: a massive pileup of cars spewing steam in the rain. He didn’t seem notice that wreck was being investigated by one of the Yucatan’s top cops, Capitan Pies del Pollo (which translates to ‘ChickenFeet’). Trying to avoid the automotive disaster, Galo Malo veered straight into the good Capitan.
Likewise, their pursuers, trying not to get mired in the mechanical mess, swerved and hit Pies del Pollo, too.
So, despite being in a pile of feathers, Taca, pecked Galo Malo and bit his wings until he released her. She fluttered out, finding her feet on the ground. Making her way towards Maurice and Capitan Pies, she began peeping as if her life depended on it!
“HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME!,” poor little Taca sounded like a broken record.
“Oh, my little TACA!!!!” Maurice crowed.
“O Dios, Gracias!!!” Juan David del Corso y Violetta screeched.
“Oh, WOW, HOW COOL!” squawked Hane, Rusticus and Gal.
“UGGGHHH, ARGGGH, Curses!” croaked The Evil Galo Malo.
Capitan Pies got up, shook himself off and unruffled his feathers….”What is going on here? Who are you and what is going on?”
“That EVIL VARLET has kidnapped our little Taca and was going to sell her to an egg laying factory. He does not deserve to go free!” crowed Maurice and Juan del Corso at once.
“Yes! And we were on our way to find my Daddy. He’s a pilot for Avian Airlines and, like you is named ‘El Capitan’.” peeped tiny Taca.
Capitan Pies replied, “HMMM, ‘El Capitan’…I have heard of him. He has a son named ‘Marinero’ correct?”
Taca nodded the affirmative.
“Marinero, your brother got into a bar fight at the ‘JungleFowl’ in Playa de Pollos. One of my friends was called in to break it up,” continued Pies del Pollo.
Taca looked shocked, that didn’t sound like her older brother, but, then how well did she know him—she was so very young. Her sisters knew him better. She shrugged.
Pies del Pollo added, “No one was hurt and all charges are dropped. I hear they are staying at the Pollo Motel across from the ITZA CHICKEN RESORT. They were going to fly some big dude rooster back to the U.S. Ybor City in Florida, I think.”
Maurice looked up abruptly. “Do you happen to know the name of the ‘big dude rooster’?”
Pies del Pollo stroked his chin, “I think it was…Gallus Domesticus…that sounds right…”
‘GALLUS DOMESTICUS!!! THAT’S MY FATHER!! I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR HIM FOR MONTHS!” crowed Maurice. “Let’s GO!”
“WAIT,” Pies del Pollo, ever the voice of reason, “I will drive you all - but, first we have to arrest this bird, this Galo Malo, who only has bad bones in his body. Don’t worry, I’ll make it snappy!”
Galo Malo, his wings veritably clipped, glowered at them.
TACA FINDS HER PAPA!
El Capitan was standing the lobby of the Pollo Motel, pacing nervously. He had no idea, not even an inkling, that his little baby Taca had been lost, not to mention endangered.
How did this happen? Who was she with? And, how did her mother, Guadelupe lose track of her?
He had been alerted by the local police Captain, Señor Pies del Pollo that his daughter was now safe and would be delivered to him ASAP.
So, it was with a bit of trepidation that El Capitan walked out into the parking lot to greet the police van.
The passenger door burst open, and before anyone else could get out tiny Taca flew into his wings.
And, so it was that Taca was reunited with her Daddy, who was thrilled beyond reason to see his tiny baby girl!
FATHER AND SON REUNION
MAGNIFICENCE FOUND
There he sat, magnificent as ever, sunning himself and enjoying a cocktail. A slight breeze ruffled through the palm trees that edged the beach and the surf gently glided onto the shore. It was a perfect tableau of ROOSTER AT REST. It could have been an advertisement for the spa….and he was definitely the Most Interesting Rooster in the World.
Maurice held out a wing, stopping his crew. This was a point crystallized in time, a shining diamond of a moment to be forever preserved as a memory.
“Don’t disturb him. I just want to take in this scene for a minute. He is so very GRAND, we need to bask in his brilliance for a moment.”
Gallus sipped his drink and, sensing an audience, turned to look at the chickens approaching him.
“My Boy, Maurice, what are you doing here? And who is this flock that are accompanying you?”
“Papa, I have been LOOKING FOR YOU! When you disappeared so suddenly I was bereft. No one could tell me where you were and I knew that I MUST find you!,” a tear slid down Maurice’s beak.
“I’ve been on a QUEST!” a sob in his voice.
“Yes, and he convinced US to come along as his Wingmen,” entered Gal, Hane and Rusticus!
“And, I am Juan David del Corso y Violetta, at your service. I am one of the most feared pirates of the Caribbean. I have provided incalculable aid to your son on his search for you,” bowing deeply and taking off his feathered hat to honor Gallus Domesticus.
Putting his drink down and standing up, Gallus Domesticus strode over to the group.
Embracing Maurice, and sighing, “I’m so sorry that I scared you, little one. I just needed to get away and rest for a while. As you know, ‘heavy is the head that wears a crown’.”
“Come here, my nephews,” enveloping “The boys,” and pecking them lightly on their cheeks.
“It must have been VERY hard to find me! This is a LONG way from home and I can’t believe you were able to track me down!” wondered Gallus Domesticus.
“Maurice, you are an incredible rooster! And, so very BRAVE! In fact, you ALL are awe-inspiring! I am PRODIGIOUSLY PROUD of you!”
“And, kind sir, my name is Gallus Domesticus, I thank you for escorting my son and nephews,” extending his wing to the handsome pirate.
“Well, me Hearty, I’m glad to make your acquaintance, having heard so much about you,” Juan David leaned forward accepting the offered wing.
“And, it’s been QUITE THE JOURNEY!” he added.
BIG OL JET AIRLINER
HOMEWARD BOUND....
Whirring propellors sliced the quiet of the early morning as a feathery flock huddled next to the AVIAN Airlines jet.
El Capitan and Marinero were in the cockpit checking the instruments, with Taca sitting on her father’s lap.
“Papa, I can drive….I know the way!”
To which El Capitan just laughed and moved her away from the yoke, replying, “I don’t think you do mijita. We were flying to Ybor City in Florida, but, the plan has changed. We’re going farther north, to Virginia, taking the Roosters home.”
Taca nodded and put on her goggles.
Outside the ad hoc flock was lining up to board, and a colorful lot they were.
“I’m glad to be going home, my son,” sighed Gallus Domesticus. “Originally I planned to stop in to Ybor City to see our mad cousin, Gallo Loco, but that’s best left for another day. He’ll be there, wild as ever, so we can see him later. I’m anxious to get back to your mother and sister and the flock. I hope the pecking order hasn’t gone off the rails…”
“I’m happy to be hitting the road for home, too, Dad,” clucked Maurice. “What a long strange trip!”
He turned back to look at Gal, Hane, Rusticus and Juan David. They were hopping around, kicking a pebble, playing their own version of soccer.
“I’m glad that Juan David is coming with us….supposedly there are pirates in the Chesapeake Bay…I guess we’ll find out,” Maurice muttered under his breath.
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Randolph Rooster Acrylic Tumbler
NEWSFEED (ALMOST AS GOOD AS CHICKENFEED)
SCOOP FROM THE COOP-MAURICE ANNOUNCES PLANS FOR HIS TRIP
MAURICE AND THE BOYS ARE TAKING THE TRAIN
MAP SHOWING MAURICE'S ROUTE
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MAURICE ANGRY ROOSTER MEETS A PIRATE OF THE CARIBBEAN
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MAURICE ANGRY ROOSTER MEETS A PIRATE OF THE CARIBBEAN
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A Chicken Coop Near You, June 12, 2024- Hurdling their way to locate Gallus Domesticus, Maurice and his pals, meet another raging rooster on the train. These Birds of a Feather, Maurice, Gall, Hane and Rustic’s, encounter the Very Fearsome One-Eyed Rooster, Juan David Del Corso y Violetta. Read about their rough encounter with this swashbuckling bird who is a direct descendant of Gallo Majestico, his fair bride, Gallina Gloriosa and their son, their brilliant son, Gallo Del Mar (Chicken of the Sea).
Del Corso y Violetta, a member of the Fabled Founding Flock on the Yucatan, recounts his family’s connection to the Fierce 17th Century Corsican Pirate and Privateer, Juan Del Corso.
There is always something new hatching with Maurice and his Flock! Check out the latest installment at www.mauriceangryrooster.com.
Maurice has gone in search of his father, Gallus Domesticus, who is mysteriously missing. Sensing trouble, Maurice has vowed to find his dear old dad.
For more information about the details of this odyssey and the compelling story of Maurice and his flock, visit: https://mauriceangryrooster.com.
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