He comes a-strolling with dignity and purpose, bobbing majestically, robed in royal red, as fiery as embers in the grate on a winter’s night. He’s huge, he’s beautiful, and he knows it, the neighborhood rooster leading his ladies on a foraging expedition though all the front yards.

Sometimes he brings three ladies. Today, it’s four.

He doesn’t partake of the ground-feast himself. He leads the way, strutting to and fro, keeping watch while the hens scratch and peck.

Naturalist Sy Montgomery writes in Birdology:

Most roosters are very solicitous of their hens. When he’s not patrolling for predators, he’s often searching for food his flock might enjoy. When he finds it, uttering his food call…he stands aside while his women enjoy the treat, and only after they’ve had their fill will he sample the snack. The Talmud praises the rooster, and its writers advise the Jews to learn from him courtesy toward their mates.

I watch from the kitchen window as the chickens work their way over to my yard. The rooster crows. Montgomery calls it “the soundtrack of rural life.” In my mind, it’s the quintessence of rustic. And something more. The rooster’s crow calls to something deep in the human spirit (long before and long after the Apostle Peter wept in contrition).

Montgomery, again:

In the sacred book, the Hadith, the prophet Muhammad tells us why roosters crow: they do so because they have seen an angel. The moment a cock crows, the holy man advises, is a good time to ask for God’s blessing.

I remember the story-name given to roosters in fables: Chanticleer. From Old French, meaning “clear song.”

I slip outside through the garage to see if I can record it.

The chickens are under the crape myrtle at the old dog’s grave, scritching about in the mulch, flinging it every which way. The rooster is immediately aware of my presence. He turns to face homeward, in case.

Here’s my recording…wait for it…

At the end of a required re-interview for a job I’ve had for years (another story in itself, involving all staff) I was asked if I had anything else to add. I said yes. “I’ve learned a lot by watching birds. There’s nothing random in their actions.”

I likely left the interviewers scratching their heads, but I held my position.

Chanticleer crows. God, please bless me, my family, the work of my hands, my heart. Give me strength.

In the words of Montgomery: At the end of my prayers…birds teach me how to listen.

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Composed for Day 24 of the Slice of Life Story Challenge with Two Writing Teachers