Stupid rooster . . .

Here I sit in the middle of Ubaúna,Brazil, in the middle of the desert, 5000 miles from home and 6 hours from civilization. Peace and quiet, right?

Wrong!

The stupid rooster can’t tell time!

Three o’clock in the morning, three o’clock! The crazy bird starts crowing and crows every half hour until dawn. Then he stops. Six times, every half hour, as though he was looking at a watch, he sings his song. Irritating, brash, cutting, penetrating the deepest slumber.

Worse yet, his stupid clamoring got all the roosters in the villa riled up. At one point there must have been 5-6 having their own yodeling contest.

I asked my mother-in-law if rooster would fry up well. Other than being a bit tough, she said he would.

Here chicky, chicky, chicky . . .