I take my checkbook out of my pocket, write down a number with entirely too many zeroes for a rooster, and hand it over.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” I say, as he takes a moment to stare at the check in his hand.
He nods. “This is going to make my wife so happy. She’s been going on and on about saving money for college since the day our oldest was born.”
“My favorite kind of deal is one where everyone leaves pleased,” I say.
He laughs. “She’ll be even happier when she realizes the rooster is gone too.”
Just then, the kid in his arms starts whimpering and the man’s shoulders sag.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I say, heading for the front door.
He nods, rocking the kid back and forth gently. “You okay with getting the rooster on your own? He’s in the coop out back. He’s friendly, doesn’t really mind handling but might be a little apprehensive if he doesn’t know you.”
I wave him off. “I’ll be fine. You guys have a good night.”
“You as well,” he says, diverting toward the staircase along the far wall of his kitchen.
I pull the door shut behind me as I step outside, and with a growing tightness in my chest, head around back to greet the rooster.
He clucks at me when he sees me, his little head moving back and forth as if he’s trying to get a read on who I am. I open the door to the chicken coop just enough to see him face to face without letting him become free range.
“How do you feel about taking a field trip to the sunflower farm?”
I reach out for him the same way I would greet a dog, and when I would normally expect a wet nose or a nice lick, I get a sideways look and a cluck.
“Are we friends?” I ask.
It turns its head to the other side.
“Are you shaking your head or just looking at me?”
It turns its head in the opposite direction.
“I really should have thought to bring a cage, huh?”
I swear it nods.
“How do you feel about BMWs?”
It clucks, and I take that to mean he’s a fan.
I reach toward him hesitantly and brush my fingers along his head, pleased to see him lean into the touch. He takes a step toward me, rubbing his head along my palm when I stop stroking him.
“Wow, you’re a nice guy, aren’t you?”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Can I pick you up?”
He only stares at me.
“I thought we had a nice rapport going on. No?”
He clucks again.
I let out a long breath. “Alright, here goes nothing.” I reach for his… not his bottom, but whatever part of the chicken is above his legs, and hoist him carefully out of the coop.
