Cock-A-Doodle-Doo-Doo by Danny McBride, 874 words

The crowing of a rooster is one of nature’s most life affirming sounds. One awakes without an alarm clock radio jabbering some traffic report for a part of the city you will never have to go to. This natural aural beauty is nature’s way of bringing in the day, the sunrise- -Except when it begins at 3 AM, as it does regularly now in my neighborhood. At 6 AM I could take it, but much more of this 3 AM stuff and these birds will be learning the meaning of the word Frucassee.

And believe me, if this continues, it’s one thing we can fricandeau.

I grew up in a small town in New England where the sights and sounds--and smells--of barnyard animals were an everyday occurrence. No, we only had a dog, but others around us kept chickens, pheasants, cows, horses, and all manner of barnyard creatures. And of course woodland creatures--deer, rabbits, squirrels, skunks--were common as well.

Now fast forward to my City-By-The-Freeway. After living in harmony with goats and "ducks and chicks better scurry, when I take you out in my". . . Wait, never mind. Living in the city one does not expect roosters at 3 AM. (I know--Sounds like a line of dialog from an old John Wayne movie--"Skipper! Look out! Roosters at 3 AM!!")

Well, one does not expect roosters at 3 AM in the city, unless it is an old John Wayne movie on TV, say Rooster Cogburn. And these roosters are so cocky they do not ever expect to have to learn the words "stew pot". Dumb clucks. I don’t have the recipe for Charles’ Squab, but I can just wing it. Drumstick, please.

There are two of these yardbirds a few backyards apart, and just as neighborhood dogs bark one after another back and forth, these two featherbrains think that if one crows, the other must respond ("I will make the sun come up!-A-Doodle-Doo.""Now you won't, I will!-Doodle-Doo!"). Even the crows can’t stand the crowing.

Do you sleep with the windows open? Fresh air or surprise night-time company--that is the big city dilemma. I choose fresh air, such as it is here in Los Angeles, and expect that unwanted night-time company has so many other options that they’ll seek entrance elsewhere. My bedroom windows are too small for an adult to wriggle through, and are high enough from the ground so that I’m sure I’d hear a ladder being put up against the side of the house in my sleep. Or so I hope.

The one time this did happen, it was a Pacific Bell technician rewiring new phone jacks, at least that’s what he said. And, no, it was in the middle of the afternoon when I was napping. A nap, I hasten to add, necessitated by having been awakened at 3 AM by the two competitors at Roosterfest. Did I mention Roosters yet? But what a great line for a burglar caught in the act. "Yes, sir, phone company. Just checking the wiring." Of course he was wearing a PacBell shirt and hard hat, so he gets an A for effort if he was casing the joint. But if he were a break-and-enter specialist, he wouldn’t want to come in the middle of the night, because I’m awake then as a result of the you-know-whats.)

Arising to the pleasant chirping of bird noises is one of life’s joys- -jays, mockers, sparrows and songbirds of all types. Heck, even pigeons. It’s a delight that starts the day off on the right foot, along with an industrial strength caffeine jolt to the brain. Our local Phainopepla from the San Fernando Valley Audubon Society lists 116 species sighted locally over one recent weekend. True, many are just visiting on their way to or from other nesting areas- -Pelagic Cormorants, Eurasian Wigeons, Caspian Terns, and everyone’s favorite, Canada Geese (although like many other Canadians, such as Peter Jennings, Neil Young, and Alanis Morissette, they seem to be here for good).

Many other species, however, are native and are here most of the time--Canyon Wrens, Purple Finches, Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Western Bluebirds and the ever popular Red-breasted Sapsucker. Not one of these birds has the temerity to begin singing-chittering-cheep-cheeping until sunrise- -okay, an occasional mockingbird. But almost none. Except the McNuggets-To-Be.

So here’s the real problem. I know that local city ordinances forbid barnyard animals of any kind in this residential neighborhood. One must live elsewhere in The Valley to have horses or whatever, including chickens. I also know that the Animal Control Department has only one solution in the rule book for this problem. And because they are probably pets (unless they’re being raised for wagering), I can’t be the mean guy up the street that sends some kid’s pet to the El Pollo Loco fryolater. So what’s a sleep-deprived pet-lover to do?

Call Kenny Rogers? The Colonel? I should turn them in, but I’m chicken. I should hire a hit man. I bet I could get one for this job for chicken feed. A regular coop-d’etat. Coop de grace. Oo LaLa!! A Pullet Surprise!!

It’s 3 AM! Do you know where the skillet is?

-30-