Lonesome Leghorn or Claiming Home to Roost

You’ve read about me catching a mouse in my bed, the great moth invasion, the guard-goose and the turtle who caught a bird..

This one is about RooShoo.  RooShoo is named for our original try at Roostering.  I won RooShoo the First after a drawing at the fairgrounds, his original name was Sparky.


RooShoo the Second is an escapee left behind at the fairgrounds and came with no history.  A Writer’s Chatroom friend, Zak, thinks we have a Leghorn.  He looks like the Kellogg Rooster if you ask me. 


Right now he is at my front door making a low purring sound. 


A few days ago, he fluttered his way over the fence or squirmed under, we have yet to witness the transition.  The guys took after him, hoping to capture him or herd him back into his own yard.  It was like a Laurel and Hardy skit.  They guys gave up till after dinner.


My best guess is that if you wait till nearly dark, capture him and put him back, he’ll simply go to sleep and stay put till morning.


So, the guys went back outside and couldn’t find the Rascally Rooster.  Gone, quiet… out for the count. 


When the rooster was given up for lost, my darling husband came into the house through the breezeway where he discovered the ranging rooster perched on top of a file cabinet that had collected odds and ends. 



My son scooped him up and turned him out to the backyard.


Later, after Shaman-Ariadne came over to feed, chase and admire her 4H project, he let himself out again. 


I suspect he is lonely.  When he gets out, he comes to the front window and sits in my flower bed.  I’ve seen many things through this window.  It inspires blog posts and picture taking and an occasional calling of a witness so I can ask – do you see what I see?


Wednesday night, near dark, I suggested opening the breezeway door so RooShoo could claim home to roost and be quietly scooped up and put back. 


I’m typing away in the chatroom, wishing Zak would appear to advise me on roostering, when I heard the flapping of wings in the other room.  Lo and Behold as Shakespeare might say, there is a Rooster in my Laundry Room.  There he was on top of the dryer, owning the room.



Today, the trend continues, at random intervals, the lonesome leghorn flutters up to with window, bobs his head and crows. 


I think he is caught between wanting to rule his roost and submitting to us for the comfort of companionship.  I plan to call the 4H leader in search of some hens to keep RooShoo busy.


Till next time, don’t touch anything sharp.

By Sally

Sally Franklin Christie Blogger and Author of If I Should Die and Milk Carton People.

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