Sam would say hello to y’all and apologize for our extended absence if he wasn’t so busy getting into mischief here lately. Mr. G was working out of town for a couple of months and Sam was kind of well-behaved and somewhat boring during that period. He would strut and do his wing-down dance every once in a while when I went to gather eggs, like he was trying to let me know he was still boss of the back yard universe, but for the most part, he didn't really have his heart in it. But once Mr. G came home, Sam decided he needed to assert his authority again and started to act more like himself.
Poor Mr. G. was out cooking on the grill one evening last week when the gas tank ran out of gas. Now for some reason, as long as Mr. G was standing up at the grill with a fork in his hand, Sam kept his distance. But when Mr. G. bent down to get the old tank out, Sam, who had been hiding under the butterfly bush off the deck, saw a golden opportunity and sprang into action. So there was Mr. G, unhooking the gas lines, when Sam swooped up out of nowhere and landed on the deck railing just over Mr. G’s head, crowing and carrying on for all he was worth and flying at Mr. G, who was frantically waving a short screwdriver around in the air in an attempt to ward off the attack of an enraged rooster with very long spurs.
I was in the back of the house, heard all the commotion, and ran up front to hear Mr. G. hollering out for me to “Do something about this #@**&^ rooster, before he kills me or I kill him!” So I went out there with my trusty broom and shooed Sam off the deck rail, then stood guard until Mr. G finished and could resume his post at the grill, armed with his long barbeque fork.
I’m sure it was a somewhat traumatic experience for Mr. G, but I was kind of happy to see that Sam hadn’t completely lost his vim and vigor- he’d gotten so well behaved that I was beginning to worry about him…