TALE OF THREE COCKERELS...

When I lived on the island, I learned the realities of the gulf between farmers and religious with strong Franciscan leaning.........

This is what I wrote then.....

" I have a varied flock of hens, who like to hatch their eggs in true and natural fashion.....

There is no way to predict the sex of unhatched chicks, and in any farm etc there can basically only be one cockerel.. Apart from the noise ( they challenge each other by crowing back and forth, at a high rate of decibels) they will fight to the death, interbreed etc.

The usual "remedy" for spare cockerels in this "women's lib" setting is

"the pot"... I am in consequence of having so many animal/bird friends, becoming more and more vegetarian, Meat simply became too personal... One of the main reasons was the annual cockerel cull.

I CANNOT kill, so a neighbour, tolerating this "soft",disabled Englishwoman, would come and collect the spares. I felt obliged to catch them; this can only be done at night, you see...

And they SCREAM!! Horrible noise!! And, being a kind Sister, would find myself comforting them "It's OK: no-one's going to........." And Ii would have to stop....

All this rather spoilt my huge pleasure at hatching time.. Knowing what lay ahead....

And the pathetic scrawny corpses!! I could rarely bring myself to touch them; the cats had no such scruples!!

Well, this year, after various events and attitudes here since I became the first and only Sister on a largely pagan/anti-Catholic island, I found the courage of my convictions

I was NOT going to participate in discriminatory killing!!

Accordingly, one night in Lent, I caught two of the spare cockerels, torch and pole in hand( torch to see swiftly who and where they were, and pole to knock them out of the rafters!) There was a third, but by then there was TOTAL CHAOS out there!

"NO-ONE IS GOING TO HARM YOU!!" I assured them with great glee..

Because this time it was true.

And in the pearl grey of the early morning, sacks wriggling in the back of the car, and singing a happy hymn, I drove to the shore nearest, where I watch the seals etc. The seaweed there, great banks of it, is heaving with grubs at that time of year; there is fresh water and the ruined house to shelter in. They would be FINE!!

And with huge satisfaction I watched my two renegades lope off into the dawn...Wished them well and farewell..

For various reasons, I did not get back to the shore for a while after that. Someone I had told about this ( NOT LOCAL!!) wondered if folk would guess the origin of these two.. I know these people and laughed. "Probably - but no-one would dare accuse me to my face!"

We also wondered if they might "home" - but I have had spare cockerels

"dumped" here (island humour!!) several times and once here they show no

inclination to go home...

Two days before I lost my cat-friend the neighbour who usually kills the cockerels rang me. This is a VERY rare event; I was punch -drunk with lack of sleep, so was not alert!

"Have you been down to the shore recently?"

I had explained I was ill, but!!

"So you haven't seen those two roosters someone's put there, running about?"

I was very thankful we don't have videophone!! My first reaction, stifled just in time, was delight and relief. "The boys" were safe!!

"NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!" I exclaimed realistically, chuckling inwardly - and knowing full well she KNEW they were mine..

"CRUEL that", she opined, self-righteousness in every letter....(AND PULLING THE NECKS OF TERRIFIED BIRDS IS KIND???) "There's no food for them there"

It was then I in my joyful tiredness made an unguarded mistake. "Oh, I don't know! The seaweed is FULL of maggots..."

You could have heard a pin drop.....

A few nights later I saw, through my uncurtained window, torchlight flashing.. No car, just the lights. This, in my isolated situation here ( the nearest house is about a quarter of a mile away) is very unusual.... But it was Saturday night, when the drink flows freely here and wise maidens stay put.

As day dawned, the peace was shattered and rent by many crowings and chasings.. The boys were back! They patently did not want to be; they took off across the fields every time I appeared. Even while quite desperate about all this, I noticed how fit and well they looked! Any resemblance to a pampered barnyard cockerel had vanished. These

were wild creatures, long of leg, fleet Quite beautiful.

Obviously the life suited them!!

That day is one I will not easily forget.. The noise outside; five cockerels......

And my dilemma.... They KNEW those birds had come from here, my conservative neighbours who hate my "different ways".. So no way could I get rid of them in "their" way..I am VERY, VERY bad at lying, thankfully...

So the long hours passed..

And a plan formed, for I was NOT going to be beaten back, out manoeuvred, thwarted in my mercy plans.

And I have a distinct tactical advantage over these folk - one that really annoys and disconcerts them by its "eccentricity". I sleep little and at unusual hours; my normal day starts at three am, so "the thin time" and I are dear friends....

So, soon after midnight , there I was, torch, pole, sacks... energised by need, furtively creeping through the mud, watching for lights going on across the fields...

My word they were stronger!! And LOUDER! They fought and struggled.... One sack "hopped" across the yard....

And I added the third one, leaving Coquelicot , my "boss-cock", and Hitler, the all- dancing, all crooning aggressive "spare" who is a from my original cockerel and genetically acceptable - and a comic I would miss...

And off I drove in the still, dark, blessedly solitary night...

TACTICS!!

This is a small island, about 6 miles by 4, sparsely populated, and wild. The shore had simply been too confined a space ( even so they must have taken some catching... What malice!!)

So now I drove clear across the island (I was at the south tip), up northerly, to the wild part that surrounds and abuts on our tiny airstrip, used only on Wednesdays... By one of the ruined chapels I stopped, hefted out the struggling sacks, and, one by one,, released the trio into the sweet, clean air of freedom.....

With HUGE satisfaction.....

That was on Mothering Sunday, English time, mid-Lent..... No calls, no cockerels.... Farmers, nil, Sister - HIGH SCORE..

This year the hatchings have been especially joyful. For no matter what sex these tinies are, they are safe from sudden death....for next spring, they will join their siblings, living free in this fair and fertile land........