The Great Rooster Rescue

October 20, 2021 — When chickens meet chaos… and one woman saves the day.

It had rained the night before and the ground was a muddy mess when I went out to feed the pigs. I thought it’d be a normal morning... until I heard the awful squawking. You know the kind—the something’s terribly wrong kind.

I went lookin’, and what I found? Three roosters had somehow gotten into the pig pen. One was already gone—killed and eaten. The other two were stuck in the muck, flappin’ and squawkin’ but too weighed down by the mud to fly.

I was wearin’ the feller’s big ol’ boots tryin’ to stay dry, but there was no time to be dainty. I climbed the fence across Corn Fed’s pen—Corn Fed bein’ one of the biggest pigs I’ve ever laid eyes on. Somehow I kept my balance and didn’t land face-first in the slop.

But when I tried to get to the roosters, one of the hogs wasn’t havin’ it. He came at me like he meant business. I grabbed a piece of board that was nearby and walloped him hard enough to back him off, hollerin’ the whole time. I got to the first rooster, scooped him up, and tossed him out of the pen. Then made my way to the second one, swinging the board and yellin’ all the way.

When I turned to go, one of my boots stuck in the mud and came right off my foot! Good thing I had socks on. I had to go back and dig it out, toss it over the fence, and then climb my way back over Corn Fed’s gate again.

Back up at the house, I looked at those poor roosters—just pitiful. Their wings were drooping and caked in mud so thick they couldn’t even walk right. So I did what any good chicken mama would do: I took ’em into the kitchen and gave ’em warm water baths, one at a time.

They didn’t get completely clean, but they could walk, lift their wings, and breathe easy. And I sat there afterward, still shakin’ my head… what a way to start a morning.

Muddy boots — **The boots…**
or what was left of them after the pen rescue.

Rooster covered in mud — **One muddy, mad rooster**
struttin’ like he owns the place.

Second rooster muddy and ruffled — **Look at that face**
—pure betrayal and barnyard drama.

Rooster on orange mower — **Gettin’ cleaned up and dryin’ off**
on the mower like a king.

Rooster fluffed up — **Feather fluff level:**
mildly offended.

Rooster close-up — **He ain't forgot.**
And he ain't forgiven.

Rooster back on grass — **Back outside**
a little cleaner, but still grumbly.

Rooster drying off — **Catchin’ some sun**
and sortin’ through his feelings.

Rooster still muddy — **Maybe not glamorous**
but he’s alive and struttin’.

"Some mornings just start with mud, feathers, and grit... and that’s alright by me."

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