Many of you fine folks out there know of a younger fella out there that actually goes by the name of “Rooster”. This story is NOT about him. I did not even know him way back in the “50s. But it was a beautiful fall day to remember. My family and I still lived up on Church Hill in Strong Maine. (Please note folks- it should always be written with you being the last named.) Not me and my brother, but my brother and I. (Pet peeve) Anyway, Dad had gone to work and Mother had gone to town shopping for food. Before she left, I had been given strict orders to behave myself. I was not to go wandering around the woods. This was delivered to me with threats of not being able to sit down or actually losing a week or two of my life. But, then, those were only words to this young wild boy. One of my older sisters was put in charge of keeping track of our whereabouts. The one rule she insisted we follow was, when she called our name we were to show our smiling face and answer. It was such a sunny weekend, and it didn’t take long and I got bored. This was usually a dangerous situation for my imagination and I. My folks were gone, and it was like I had been granted total freedom in a candy store. What to do, what to do? I had not done anything yet to even come close to getting into trouble. I went and convinced my next oldest brother to help pass away the day. Another rule we had to follow was “if the sun was out, we HAD to be outside.” As we sat on our bed getting ready, we spied the crock that Dad had tried to hide in a corner upstairs. We had also been instructed to never, never go near that crock. I had been threatened within an inch of my life if I was to ever touch that crock. But you know folks, you never tell a young fella such I “do not touch”. That is a sure challenge to touch and see what happens. Well, brother and I just had to take one quick peek to see what was in that crock. It contained a brew that Dad had been working on. He just loved to make a lot of home brews. This one contained elderberries. One of us had the right idea of feeding just a small cup fool of those berries to the rooster.

This rooster was the king of the yard. He took it as his job to sound off anytime during the day to let all nature know he was still here. His cock-a doodle-do could be heard almost all over the neighborhood. I had heard many of the neighbors voice their concern in regard to whether he should even be around anymore. It was indeed fall and we all knew what happened in the fall. I think they just got tired of hearing him crow at all hours of the day. So brother and I took a small cup full of those berries to the king of the yard. Oh he loved the taste of those. But, he didn’t sound quite the same when he crowed. It came out as roo-a root-ree. Once in a while he would holler crock-a-roo-doodle. When he spied one of the hens, he tried so hard to catch her. He was having a hard time navigating a straight line. And then he would try so hard to holler again. Brother and I were in stitches of laughter, almost rolling on the ground. This was indeed fun, so we tried some of the other animals. We had to be careful though, for surely Dad would notice if the level in that crock got too low. Nothing was as much fun as the rooster though. Until we spied miss piggie. We just wanted to see what she would sound like with a big helping of those berries. Of course, we were too young to calculate just how much she weighed and how much she consumed without any funny effects. We decided it was best to just go play in one of the junk cars. This was actually a wise move on our part. Dad came home earlier than usual from work. Of course, being the little angels we were we hollered and waved to assure him we were being nice young boys. Dad was tired and went in to take a nap. When we thought he was deep in sleep, we took miss piggie in and put her under his bed. Now, miss piggie just loved to have her back scratched. She just about fit under the bed. When we reached in to scratch her back, she jumped up and hit the springs under dad’s bed. Oh, she just enjoyed that and kept on moving back and forth for a free back scratching. She got so happy; the bed began to walk around the room. Brother and I very quickly went back to play in the junk car. It was slowly becoming a most victorious day. Dad came out of his bedroom, and he was not happy. He used a lot of his favorite words in describing what was going on. In his search to find out just how the pig got under the bed, he stepped outside. Of course, being the sweet little devils we were, we knew nothing about the situation. We were in the same spot just moments ago. I have to tell you folks, that was indeed a day to remember. All the shenanigans we did and yet still remained innocent sweet little boys enjoying the nice warm fall day. Ken White mountainman