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Spurs

Spurs came into the world in a wire coop that once housed rabbits. Being the only rooster out of a dozen eggs made him a conceited beast as he grew. From day one, he bossed the other chicks out of the way to get his fill.

Sis, at the age of three, was fascinated with every facet of the farm we'd moved to just months ago. The soft chicks grabbed her attention the moment she saw them. Good for her, bad for Spurs.

One day, she sneaked out to the coop and stuck inquisitive fingers through the wiring on the bottom. A ticked off mother hen brought Daddy running. Wild dogs worked the area occasionally and Daddy grabbed his slug-loaded pistol as he went out the door. Relief flooded him when he saw his youngest daughter looking at something up under the coop. Turned out it was Spurs' tiny foot, which had been pulled through one of the holes. Daddy reached in, managing to retrieve the foot, but discovered the leg was broken.

A master carpenter by trade, his dream had always been to own a farm. Now that the dream had come true, he intended to be good at all aspects, including saving that little chicken. He made a tiny splint out of toothpicks and adhesive tape. Spurs continued bullying his sisters as though his leg had no break. When the splint came off, either the leg hadn't healed properly or its growth had been stymied. Whatever caused it, Spurs had a decided limp from that day forward.

The bright yellow chick grew into a magnificent rooster sporting emerald green, ruby red and blue-tinted black tail feathers against his deep rust red coat. His comb grew tall and straight; his wattle long and impressive. The hens, young and old, swooned when he marched through their midst. He knew it and enjoyed it to the fullest. He took on the very serious job of protector of the barnyard, calling Daddy out on more than one occasion when the wild dogs appeared.

Each morning we awoke to the clear, crystal crowing from the Farm Prince. Daddy let me help feed the animals, making it seem such an honor, I never thought of it as work. But one animal would accept nothing unless it came from the King's own hand the King being Daddy. Sometimes during the day, when all was quiet and work done for a while, Daddy would go walking around the farm. Hobbling in all his splendor, Spurs would march beside him King and Prince surveying their kingdom.

On one such walk, Spurs suddenly rushed ahead of Daddy, squawking and flapping madly, completely forgetting all decorum. Like a missile to its target,

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