stewartwillsher
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- May 15, 2017
- Messages
- 1,111
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- Location
- Western Spain and Costa de la Luz
Now, this is less of a WAFFLE, more of a CHORTLE, and a tale from our real crazy world.
The subject might have misled you into thinking naughty thoughts; well, unfounded, as I relate what happened in the pouring rain outside our house and on our land and adjacent properties.
Our chap, had been off to scrounge, because I doubt any money changed hands, a cockerel, to replaced the worn out expired one.
He, our chap, not the cockerel, was quite chuffed at having obtained what he thinks is a good'n, that will satisfy (ahem!) the chickens and keep them laying.
Our "lady what does" (cleaning etc.), wife of our chap, was doing the regular weekly cleaning, when our chap pulls up in the car, outside, all excited, like.
Out he hops holding a sack and shouting for his wife; we call it Spanish whispering, as all vocal communication in our area seems to be done at high volume.
She responds from the depth of the house and deafens us, then goes to see what he wants.
Some sort of exchange takes place, no doubt she challenging him as to what sort of scrawny bird he got for nothing, and him defending his dealings.
To back up his claims, he must have said - "WELL LOOK AT MY COCK!".
In order for a viewing he opened the top of the sack.
Guess what an incarcerated cock will do when it sees an opening.
Yep, it leapt out, noisily (aren't cocks always noisy, as at daybreak?) and is away.
Various expletives from him and her and pointless waving of arms, as it was off at a high rate of knots in a Southerly direction.
That was the only good thing about the great escape, so far, as their finca is indeed to the South of ours.
House cleaning had been completed, so him and her (our chap and wife) with empty sack jump into car and are off, heading in direction of their place and maybe the runaway.
Wife (that's mine) and I, still chuckling, decide to go to other side of house, on the balcony which has an excellent vantage point over the lands below.
Him and her appear from time to time among the trees (autumn has not denuded the figs and other deciduous trees yet) on our and neighbouring fincas, whispering (yes, shouting), possibly at each other or perhaps in some vain attempt at flushing the escapee.
He is carrying a sack, whilst she has a bird under her arm with a long piece of twine attached to its leg.
We believe that unlucky creature might have been chosen for her alluring attributes, when considered from a cockerel's perspective.
Now at this point, I must mention a couple of things - it has been a tad inclement for a few days, and this day was no exception; it was peeing down, and an unfriendly chilly wind cutting like ice.
Both our chasers were well wrapped up and to ameliorate the weather were battling with umbrellas, which were least useful and hampering progress.
The other handicap, was that most of the land around us, unlike ours which is kept reasonably neat by our chap, is considerably unruly and whatever wild weeds choose to grow, grow to at least waist height.
Soaking wet, I guess it must have been like wading through treacle.
A cockerel, intent on avoiding capture has several advantages over our two human hunters, in that, the bird cannot be seen in the undergrowth, other than movement of the tops of grass-like herbage; it can make faster progress and change direction easily in an environment more suited to it; and is not carrying an umbrella.
There was some sign of hope from time to time as the cheeky freedom seeker let out an occasional cock-a-doodle or some sort of call.
This resulted in our chasers stopping, reassessing direction and distance to their quarry, before resuming the chase.
As we watched from above, the hunt getting even further from us, I was wishing I could find and play the Benny Hill chase music at high volume, to accompany the excitement.
Alas, they disappeared from view, and could be anywhere by now, as no sign has been seen of the entire fiasco, since.
So, if you look out of your window and see a cocky cockerel race past, followed by two largish Spanish country types under brollies, in hot pursuit (or cold and wet), one with a fat fruity chicken on a string and the other with a sack, shout "agarrar su gallo" (grab your cock) or similar words of encouragement.
The subject might have misled you into thinking naughty thoughts; well, unfounded, as I relate what happened in the pouring rain outside our house and on our land and adjacent properties.
Our chap, had been off to scrounge, because I doubt any money changed hands, a cockerel, to replaced the worn out expired one.
He, our chap, not the cockerel, was quite chuffed at having obtained what he thinks is a good'n, that will satisfy (ahem!) the chickens and keep them laying.
Our "lady what does" (cleaning etc.), wife of our chap, was doing the regular weekly cleaning, when our chap pulls up in the car, outside, all excited, like.
Out he hops holding a sack and shouting for his wife; we call it Spanish whispering, as all vocal communication in our area seems to be done at high volume.
She responds from the depth of the house and deafens us, then goes to see what he wants.
Some sort of exchange takes place, no doubt she challenging him as to what sort of scrawny bird he got for nothing, and him defending his dealings.
To back up his claims, he must have said - "WELL LOOK AT MY COCK!".
In order for a viewing he opened the top of the sack.
Guess what an incarcerated cock will do when it sees an opening.
Yep, it leapt out, noisily (aren't cocks always noisy, as at daybreak?) and is away.
Various expletives from him and her and pointless waving of arms, as it was off at a high rate of knots in a Southerly direction.
That was the only good thing about the great escape, so far, as their finca is indeed to the South of ours.
House cleaning had been completed, so him and her (our chap and wife) with empty sack jump into car and are off, heading in direction of their place and maybe the runaway.
Wife (that's mine) and I, still chuckling, decide to go to other side of house, on the balcony which has an excellent vantage point over the lands below.
Him and her appear from time to time among the trees (autumn has not denuded the figs and other deciduous trees yet) on our and neighbouring fincas, whispering (yes, shouting), possibly at each other or perhaps in some vain attempt at flushing the escapee.
He is carrying a sack, whilst she has a bird under her arm with a long piece of twine attached to its leg.
We believe that unlucky creature might have been chosen for her alluring attributes, when considered from a cockerel's perspective.
Now at this point, I must mention a couple of things - it has been a tad inclement for a few days, and this day was no exception; it was peeing down, and an unfriendly chilly wind cutting like ice.
Both our chasers were well wrapped up and to ameliorate the weather were battling with umbrellas, which were least useful and hampering progress.
The other handicap, was that most of the land around us, unlike ours which is kept reasonably neat by our chap, is considerably unruly and whatever wild weeds choose to grow, grow to at least waist height.
Soaking wet, I guess it must have been like wading through treacle.
A cockerel, intent on avoiding capture has several advantages over our two human hunters, in that, the bird cannot be seen in the undergrowth, other than movement of the tops of grass-like herbage; it can make faster progress and change direction easily in an environment more suited to it; and is not carrying an umbrella.
There was some sign of hope from time to time as the cheeky freedom seeker let out an occasional cock-a-doodle or some sort of call.
This resulted in our chasers stopping, reassessing direction and distance to their quarry, before resuming the chase.
As we watched from above, the hunt getting even further from us, I was wishing I could find and play the Benny Hill chase music at high volume, to accompany the excitement.
Alas, they disappeared from view, and could be anywhere by now, as no sign has been seen of the entire fiasco, since.
So, if you look out of your window and see a cocky cockerel race past, followed by two largish Spanish country types under brollies, in hot pursuit (or cold and wet), one with a fat fruity chicken on a string and the other with a sack, shout "agarrar su gallo" (grab your cock) or similar words of encouragement.
