The Rooster

When my host dad last went to Lima he brought back with him two new roosters.  They’re fighting roosters (gag me), but apparently raising the roosters and selling them when they are more mature can reap a pretty profit, which is why they’ve joined our family.

I have a problem with one of the roosters.

It has nothing to do with crowing, which might have been your guess as to the source of my annoyance.  They are absolutely silent and in fact the chickens make more noise (passing eggs is apparently no pleasant task).  The problem happens at night, when it’s dark and cold out.

You see, one of the roosters likes to sleep at the foot of the toilet. And this rooster, it’s not a sierra rooster.  It’s a coastal rooster and doesn’t understand the Quechua sound for “get out of here,” (it’s a breathy “Saf”).  So when Saf-fing doesn’t work, I turn to my foot.  A light nudge brings nothing.  No reaction—no rapid, squawking, feather-flying scramble for the door, as one would expect from a normal bird.

Now, if he was in the shower it would be a totally different matter.  I’ve shared the bathroom with shower chickens before.  We each stick to our own side and everybody’s content.  But a toilet chicken.  Aw hell no.

So I kick and prod and he is slowly, yet surely is pushed out the door.  So far the system works, but one day, I fear, his fighting instincts will kick in, and it will be Kassel vs. Rooster, Round 1.

Besos!

The rooster in question