Two Cocks Survive

//Two Cocks Survive

About a year ago I started regularly walking my dog, Frankie, at a local sports oval near some bush land. One day while parking the car, I spied what looked to be a rooster in the bush.

Leaving the dog in the car I moved closer to see his iridescent green tail feathers sticking out of the scrub. I was so surprised to see this out-of-place chook in a semi urban place, I took photos, texted my partner and bored the kids when they got home from school, wondering if someone had lost or dumped him for being too loud at stupid o’clock in the morning.

 

Wild Rooster became my obsession…. Every time I walked the dog I looked for him and was thrilled when I caught a glimpse of his crimson crown or saw him madly scratching around for bugs. He was my urban legend, living an heroic, solitary life of survival.

 

Then one day, he wasn’t there,… or the next day,… or the next.

 

I’d prepared myself for this moment. With feral and domestic cats and dogs around frequently,… it was bound to happen. And that’s just life.

 

6 months passed, life got busy, the walks continued and the wild plucky cock became a distant memory.
Until today.

 

A scant 48 hours after the US election, where the reality that the most powerful man in the western world was now Donald Trump and the world was in free fall, I went to the park and THERE HE WAS! Wild rooster was alive! I was ecstatic!

 

Sure he looked like a ragged, sauvé Jonny Depp after a night on the martinis, but he had a new found confidence as he strut through the bush, walked up to my car and casually jumped on the bonnet.

“I survived, I’m alive, I’m here to stay baby!” he seemed to declare while trapping me and my, now psychotic, dog in the car.

His feathers weren’t as vibrant, his comb a little worse for wear but he’d obviously gone rogue and was playing by his own rules now – awesome!

 

I couldn’t help but see the strange similarities: one cock with a comb, one with a comb-over,… both not where they belonged, both crazy outsiders, surviving against all odds. One a triumphant victory of nature,… the other an anti-hero anomaly of perverse human darkness.

 

I laughed at Wild Rooster’s new found confidence, staring me down from the other side of the windscreen and said out loud “yeah buddy, there’s a cock in charge now”.

 

As for the other cock,… his biggest test of survival is yet to come.

My survival solution, in the meantime, is to spread more love, be more tolerant of others, grab life’s wonderful, inexplicable moments – like heroic wild roosters jumping on your car – and celebrate the BEST stuff about being a human, not the WORST.

2018-03-20T00:01:07+00:00November 11th, 2016|

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