Big Red

Growing up in the 50's, entertainment was a little different from today.  Sometimes the fun came from simple things.  Playing games like cowboys and Indians, riding horses, and just swimming in the pond were some of the likely choices.

Sometimes the fun was a little more unusual.  This brings me to the memory of "Big Red." In those days it wasn't unusual for our family to have chickens running loose in the yard.  Today they would be called free range chickens.  They didn't get much attention except to avoid stepping in their droppings.  When these droppings were tracked into the house, they created quite a stir.  Everyone would immediately look at each other and then at their shoes.  Eventually the source would be found and the guilty party would be sent to do the outdoor shoe shuffle until the droppings were back in their normal place.

This was the main inconvenience of having free range chickens until Big Red appeared.  He was a large fierce looking rooster.  His appearance was even more pronounced by the way the sun would reflect off his feathers making them look shiny and giving him a look of majesty.  Over time Big Red began to exhibit aggressive behavior.  At first, he would simply act a little annoyed by people who happened to walk past him.  After a while, he would chase anyone who invaded his territory. The problem was that his territory kept expanding.

My brothers and I began to carefully survey the yard before walking anywhere.  Frequently, we would begin to cross the yard and before we knew it we would hear the unmistakable sound of Big Red running behind us. This sound would make us go from a normal walking speed to an all out racing gait in a moment's time.  Most of the time we would escape with little damage except to our dignity.

Over time we faced our fear by joking about how Big Red would chase us. Finally we made a game of racing with the big rooster.  If he could catch you, he would fly through the air and try to bury his two inch long spurs somewhere on your body.

It's true to say that Big Red was the king of the yard for a long time;however, most tyrants eventually meet their demise.  For Big Red his mistake was attacking my sister and drawing blood with his intimidating spurs.  Before you could say Big Red, he was the entree of the day.