Page 8 of Mother Clucker

He went back to his pursuit of the bug and I took a chance. I reached down with both hands, grabbed him around his robust middle and pulled him close to my body the way my brother had taught me to catch a football.

The bird emitted a squawk that sounded as if I was wringing his neck.

“Shh. Stop! If someone hears you they’ll call animal control and then you’ll really be sorry.” Who knew what they’d do with a rooster on the run in this neighborhood.

I figured the bird had a much better chance of survival with me, until I could research what to do with him. I held him closer, sticking him deeper under one arm and trying to hide him.

Pfft! As if I could hide this giant bird whose feathers might as well have been neon he was so colorful.

He must have figured out that fighting me was futile, although I had no doubt if he really put his all into it, he might win against me. I wasn’t an expert chicken wrangler by any means. And he came equipped with some deadly looking protrusions. Between his beak and toenails it would be like wrestling Wolverine. I wasn’t up for that.

Thank goodness he buried his head beneath my arm and went perfectly still.

I didn’t let myself get too cocky that he was cooperating. He could be playing possum, feigning submission until I let down my guard. Then he’d make a break for it.

Not on my watch.

I speed-walked as quickly as a woman could with a rooster under her arm. Not too fast. Acting casual all the way. I didn’t want to attract any negative attention.

A nosy neighbor calling the cops could ruin my whole plan to save this bird from a fate that could end in his death.

As if he knew that, he stayed quiet. Head down. Colorful tail feathers blowing in the breeze as I sped toward the condo.

Turning the corner I came face-to-face with the same gardener.

His suntanned face broke into a wide smile of white teeth. “See you found your chicken.”

Just act casual . . .

I smiled back. “I did. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Have a good day.”

“You too. Thanks.” I kept going, hoping he was the last encounter I’d have while smuggling my new friend into a condo that no doubt had a few rules about pets—particularly those of the barnyard variety.

My luck held right up until I got to the door and realized my hands were full of foul.

“Hey, buddy. Will you be good if I take one hand away to key in the code?”

He didn’t answer, so I slowly moved one hand off him, still holding him tight with the other arm. He didn’t stir. Not knowing how long he’d remain submissive I punched in the four digits, flung the door open and dashed inside.

I got the door shut, flipped the light on and glanced down at my new charge.

He remained motionless.

My eyes widened. Oh my gosh. Did I suffocate him?

I pulled him away from me and his closed eyes popped open. He blinked at me a few times as if to see why I’d disturbed him.

“You were sleeping?” I let out a sigh. “I thought you were dead. Please don’t do that again.”

Yes, I was talking to a rooster. No, it wouldn’t be the last time either. He and I were going to have to discuss some ground rules.

I carried the bird to the bathroom.

The bathtub seemed like a good temporary lodging. Easy to clean until I could come up with something better. Like maybe a cage for the deck.

I set him in the deep two-person tub. He stared at his reflection in the stainless steel ring around one of the jets before he pecked at it once.

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