Kansas City, Kansas l jm@jmhuxley.com

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A Rooster's Little Crow, God's Big Voice

December 27, 2018

 

Whenever I hear my little rooster crow, I think of God.

 

Long before the sun is up, when the world is still black in darkness and that young crooner begins his vocal warmup, I've a small reminder of God's love for me. Those calls break through to a mind miles from sunrise. One not so distant that it's unaware of tender mercies from heaven.

 

Who said God can't show a little love through a rooster?

 

You see, when our long-time rooster, his father, was killed by a neighbor's dog recently, I thought I would never find another nice rooster, one who wouldn't torment humans in fierce protection of his hens. One who wouldn't come after us all with talons leading the way. I should have known God had a plan.

 

God always has a plan.

 

I'd lamented the loss of that rooster, especially because I'd prayed God wouldn't take him! Not when he'd replaced so many evil fowls! He'd been the best, as roosters go. Content with his place in the world. 

 

Anyone who's ever had to deal with a mad rooster, knows how important, and how fortunate, a well-behaved one is! Ours had been so good, he'd respected us while valiantly defending the lives of his hens. To his death.

 

That could have been the end of roosters here. And with it, healthful, fertilized eggs. 

 

 

But God already had a replacement in the works. In the past when I've allowed hens to hatch chicks, they've all been female, go figure. And come to think of it, only once in 15 years have we contended with two roosters at once, willing to fight it out for territorial rights. And inclined to chase children around the yard to prove it. God's been looking out for us alright. Because with chicks, there's always a chance you'll get a male, even when you buy all females from a hatchery. There's an even better chance any male you get will have personality issues as it matures. In short, allowing hens to brood is risky business.

 

But there is nothing as cute as a child with a baby chick.

 

My four-year-old grandson was pretty excited about the prospect when I agreed to allow it to happen again a few months ago, but our dedicated hen only hatched three baby chicks and two of them disappeared quickly. Who could have guessed the very one that lived would grow to be a rooster?

 

I was beginning to suspect he might be getting his strut on just a few weeks after his daddy died and he began to grow tall tail feathers. Crowing happened just in time for Christmas.

 

Okay, so I'm sappy and sentimental, but I love a good rooster and I am thankful for this one. Every time he crows just outside my window now, I am reminded of the voice of God.

 

The one that says he always provides for us.

 #milkandhoneylandbook #countryliving #chicks

 

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