Hurricane Florence

[Elegantenvy]

Make sure Jack's kennel is covered with a dark cloth, so he doesn't catch the first glimmer of light in the morning.

And a funny rooster & light story ...
I grew up in a very busy, animal filled, household. We had a little Nankin rooster named Purdue. He was the most social little chicken I've ever had the pleasure to meet; he simply loved people. As we all grew into our teens, we, too, became more social ... and our "return to the roost" times got later and later as we pushed curfews further and further.

Mom solved the problem of knowing exactly when everyone got home by moving Purdue into the garage. When my sister came in, she would open the back door. Purdue would see the outside light, and would crow. Mom knew the first of her brood was safely arrived home. The same scenario was repeated as I came in a few hours later, and again when my brother somehow dragged himself home.

Challenge accepted. It became a good-natured game between us and Mom to see who could thwart the Chicken Alarm.

First, we tried to get around it by paying "little sister" a dollar to turn the porch light off when she came home, which she swears she did. It was weeks before we figured out that there was an extra "safety switch" for the back porch ... in my mother's bedroom!

Then we decided that the first one home would remove the light bulb. No go. Mom knew where the spares were kept. We played hide-the-light bulbs for awhile ... until my Dad had to buy more two weeks in a row ... and got REALLY mad at us for "wasting" so many!

We dealt with the living alarm clock until my brother came up with the bright idea of "fixing" the porch light so it no longer worked. We had two weeks where no one got ratted out by the rooster. We would come in from our nights-out, open the door and talk to Purdue in a quiet voice, so he knew we weren't giant raccoons or other chicken-eating monsters. He would chatter at us a bit, fluff himself up and settle right back on his roost. The three of us celebrated our victory with ice cream cones at our local drive-in.

But Mom wasn't done. She had us all rearranging furniture one afternoon. We thought she was just changing things up a bit, but she had an ulterior motive. The next weekend, we did our "settling" routine with Purdue. He fluffed himself back down, and then opened the door to a blazing light ... and a high, shrill cock-a-doodle-doo. The new arrangement had three lights - THREE - blazing through Perdue's door!

We gave up and called a truce. After an honest pow-wow, we ended up with slightly adjusted curfews and a promise to knock lightly on her door to let her know we were home (Dad slept like a rock!)

Purdue stayed in the garage for about two years. For some reason, he figured it was a cool place to call home. And my siblings and I gave up trying to thwart the system, not because we agreed with it, but because of what my mother told us at the pow-wow. She said that she didn't sleep well when we were out and about, she was too worried. In her own words, she said, "When the cock crows three times, I know all my babies are safe." How could we argue with that?

RIP Brother Purdue
And Thanks, Mom, for being so amazing!

That is tooooo funny. His cage is open so he's seen the light!!! He crows so many times in an hour.. I'm just laughing to myself in my bedroom. My fiance is trying to ignore it!

Your mom is clever. Who would have thought a rooster alarm. I feel jack would be perfect but he's not as loud. Could it be bc he's a bantam?

 

[Elegantenvy]

Can you turn poor jack so that he can see his girls! maybe that would help!
Prayers for safety! We had Hurricane Rita ( the one after katrina) come right up our back door- less than an hour from coast! VERY SCARY!!!

He has little windows in his cage where he can see them. Funny thing is we haven't even had terrible wesrher yet. I thought it was coming in over night yet out my window there's barely any wind

 

[MROO]

That is tooooo funny. His cage is open so he's seen the light!!! He crows so many times in an hour.. I'm just laughing to myself in my bedroom. My fiance is trying to ignore it!

Your mom is clever. Who would have thought a rooster alarm. I feel jack would be perfect but he's not as loud. Could it be bc he's a bantam?

Purdue was a Nankin Bantam, a very LOUD Nankin bantam, but that could have been because he was in a dark, closed-up garage ... and we were trying EXTRA hard to not be noticed. I think even a chick peeping would have sounded like a siren to us at that point!

 

[Wyorp Rock]

Make sure Jack's kennel is covered with a dark cloth, so he doesn't catch the first glimmer of light in the morning.

And a funny rooster & light story ...
I grew up in a very busy, animal filled, household. We had a little Nankin rooster named Purdue. He was the most social little chicken I've ever had the pleasure to meet; he simply loved people. As we all grew into our teens, we, too, became more social ... and our "return to the roost" times got later and later as we pushed curfews further and further.

Mom solved the problem of knowing exactly when everyone got home by moving Purdue into the garage. When my sister came in, she would open the back door. Purdue would see the outside light, and would crow. Mom knew the first of her brood was safely arrived home. The same scenario was repeated as I came in a few hours later, and again when my brother somehow dragged himself home.

Challenge accepted. It became a good-natured game between us and Mom to see who could thwart the Chicken Alarm.

First, we tried to get around it by paying "little sister" a dollar to turn the porch light off when she came home, which she swears she did. It was weeks before we figured out that there was an extra "safety switch" for the back porch ... in my mother's bedroom!

Then we decided that the first one home would remove the light bulb. No go. Mom knew where the spares were kept. We played hide-the-light bulbs for awhile ... until my Dad had to buy more two weeks in a row ... and got REALLY mad at us for "wasting" so many!

We dealt with the living alarm clock until my brother came up with the bright idea of "fixing" the porch light so it no longer worked. We had two weeks where no one got ratted out by the rooster. We would come in from our nights-out, open the door and talk to Purdue in a quiet voice, so he knew we weren't giant raccoons or other chicken-eating monsters. He would chatter at us a bit, fluff himself up and settle right back on his roost. The three of us celebrated our victory with ice cream cones at our local drive-in.

But Mom wasn't done. She had us all rearranging furniture one afternoon. We thought she was just changing things up a bit, but she had an ulterior motive. The next weekend, we did our "settling" routine with Purdue. He fluffed himself back down, and then opened the door to a blazing light ... and a high, shrill cock-a-doodle-doo. The new arrangement had three lights - THREE - blazing through Perdue's door!

We gave up and called a truce. After an honest pow-wow, we ended up with slightly adjusted curfews and a promise to knock lightly on her door to let her know we were home (Dad slept like a rock!)

Purdue stayed in the garage for about two years. For some reason, he figured it was a cool place to call home. And my siblings and I gave up trying to thwart the system, not because we agreed with it, but because of what my mother told us at the pow-wow. She said that she didn't sleep well when we were out and about, she was too worried. In her own words, she said, "When the cock crows three times, I know all my babies are safe." How could we argue with that?

RIP Brother Purdue
And Thanks, Mom, for being so amazing!

Great story!

 

[KenworthToyMan]

Make sure Jack's kennel is covered with a dark cloth, so he doesn't catch the first glimmer of light in the morning.

And a funny rooster & light story ...
I grew up in a very busy, animal filled, household. We had a little Nankin rooster named Purdue. He was the most social little chicken I've ever had the pleasure to meet; he simply loved people. As we all grew into our teens, we, too, became more social ... and our "return to the roost" times got later and later as we pushed curfews further and further.

Mom solved the problem of knowing exactly when everyone got home by moving Purdue into the garage. When my sister came in, she would open the back door. Purdue would see the outside light, and would crow. Mom knew the first of her brood was safely arrived home. The same scenario was repeated as I came in a few hours later, and again when my brother somehow dragged himself home.

Challenge accepted. It became a good-natured game between us and Mom to see who could thwart the Chicken Alarm.

First, we tried to get around it by paying "little sister" a dollar to turn the porch light off when she came home, which she swears she did. It was weeks before we figured out that there was an extra "safety switch" for the back porch ... in my mother's bedroom!

Then we decided that the first one home would remove the light bulb. No go. Mom knew where the spares were kept. We played hide-the-light bulbs for awhile ... until my Dad had to buy more two weeks in a row ... and got REALLY mad at us for "wasting" so many!

We dealt with the living alarm clock until my brother came up with the bright idea of "fixing" the porch light so it no longer worked. We had two weeks where no one got ratted out by the rooster. We would come in from our nights-out, open the door and talk to Purdue in a quiet voice, so he knew we weren't giant raccoons or other chicken-eating monsters. He would chatter at us a bit, fluff himself up and settle right back on his roost. The three of us celebrated our victory with ice cream cones at our local drive-in.

But Mom wasn't done. She had us all rearranging furniture one afternoon. We thought she was just changing things up a bit, but she had an ulterior motive. The next weekend, we did our "settling" routine with Purdue. He fluffed himself back down, and then opened the door to a blazing light ... and a high, shrill cock-a-doodle-doo. The new arrangement had three lights - THREE - blazing through Perdue's door!

We gave up and called a truce. After an honest pow-wow, we ended up with slightly adjusted curfews and a promise to knock lightly on her door to let her know we were home (Dad slept like a rock!)

Purdue stayed in the garage for about two years. For some reason, he figured it was a cool place to call home. And my siblings and I gave up trying to thwart the system, not because we agreed with it, but because of what my mother told us at the pow-wow. She said that she didn't sleep well when we were out and about, she was too worried. In her own words, she said, "When the cock crows three times, I know all my babies are safe." How could we argue with that?

RIP Brother Purdue
And Thanks, Mom, for being so amazing!

Thanks for sharing your story!!! Loved it !!