Saturday, May 10, 2008
Lonesome was my chicken. A rooster to be exact. He was a lovely pale yellow with one black tail feather. Out of the entire brood of chicks he was the lone survivor (hence the name Lonesome) from a predator eating them by his cunning ploy of hiding in an empty canning jar. So he was remarkable from infancy.
Daddy and Mama let me keep him as a pet. I think I brought him inside to live in a cardboard box by the woodstove until he was old enough to be put back in with the other chickens. I changed his paper, gave him food and water and "wallered" him daily with love. All the petting and carrying spoiled him apparently. The other chickens didn't like him and one of them pecked his eye, blinding him so he came back to being a pet and not part of the flock.
Lonesome would ride on our shoulders. When Daddy was stripping tobacco, Lonesome would perch up on his shoulder and stay there for hours. Lonesome would hang out around the house and I would sneak him cornbread. He didn't like being chased, which is what my ornery cousins would do, making me furious. It took days and lots of cornbread for him to calm down and trust me again.
Lonesome was one of my first pets and I loved him dearly. Unfortunately my dad got sick and we had to move in to town. I reluctantly took Lonesome over to the Brewster's farm where he finished out his days. He just disappeared one day. He was up in the years by then and with the one bad eye, I figured he never saw the end coming. I imagine it was a fox or coyote. The predator got him at last... I just hope it was swift.
Most of all I just hope animals really do go to Heaven. I would love to see that pale yellow rooster again. Although I am sure he will hate all the cats lined up to see me there...