Quote:
Originally Posted by CFrance
Around 1947, my parents decided to raise chickens in the garage of our country home (think starter home). So the story goes (I wasn't born yet) neither one of them could go into the garage to collect the eggs without being attacked by the rooster. My father had to take a broom with him. Then he couldn't bring himself to kill a chicken.
Needless to say, it was a failed experiment. I don't think they knew what they were doing, and supposedly some farmer in the area ended up with free chickens and a rooster.
Followed closely by the dog eating a pound of black-market butter. I still wasn't there, so it's all hearsay.
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I have never met a nice rooster, so it’s a true story. Until my 30s, my Grandparents, had a garden that was 2 acres of vegetables, 2 acres of fruit, hen house of 20, and a giant rooster.
My granny carried a hatchet with her every morning to gather the eggs. For some reason the rooster never attacked her. But everyone else was fair game.