[моё] Rooster on a Stick 🐓
I brought you a true story. I have already talked about a grandmother in the village and some kids in the comments. But Grandma kept not only goats but also chickens. In fact, they kept all kinds of animals—goats, geese, rabbits, pigs. But chickens... Chickens were always there.
In one wonderful summer, a hen—laying hen—appeared for us. She laid more eggs than she could keep warm, and then she completely gave up the joy of motherhood and simply went about her business, never returning to the eggs. My mom and I collected the eggs, placed them in a container on an electric heater and turned the eggs every few hours. After a while, the chicks began to hatch, but one of them just wouldn't get out. It made a tiny hole, breathed through it and slept. If the egg was disturbed, it would squeak, but it refused to climb out on its own. I was about ten years old then, and I dug the chick out myself—it was terribly fascinating. Over time it became clear that this chick was clearly weaker than the others, and I became its caretaker. I pushed it under the lamp, shoving the other chicks aside, also forced it into the feeder—a jar lid. When the chicks grew up and were moved into the enclosure with all the hens, I protected it from the adults who constantly tried to peck my Tipka. Yes, it immediately became my Tipka. All summer I carried this Tipka, both in my hands and on my shoulder like a parrot. Then summer ended, school started, and I returned to my parents in the city. I regularly called Grandma and asked how my Tipka was doing. Mom said that Tipka is a rooster and our old rooster was bullying him.
But then the long-awaited winter holidays arrived, I took the commuter train to Grandma's, was fed a delicious soup with homemade noodles, and I ran to the flock to look for my Tipka. But I couldn't find him. I returned to the house and asked Grandma where my rooster was. And Grandma said to me:
"You just ate your Tipka!"
That's how it goes, folks) As I was later told, two roosters for our ten hens is too many. It would have been better to keep the old, experienced rooster than my little glutton. Tipka stayed in my memory forever. In his memory I bought a plush chick in St. Petersburg; you can see it in the photo. And when my daughter can't fall asleep because she's scared, I give her the brave chick Tipka and tell her that he will protect her dreams
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