THE MEANEST ROOSTER IN ARKANSAS

By Emory Lee Crews

The puffy dark red chest feathers along with the scarlet red comb that surrounded his head made him appear larger than any other creature in the barnyard. The sharp three inch spurs on the back of his yellow legs, and a deep clucking sound from his throat cautioned the other animals to step aside as he strutted his domain.

"I named him General Nathan Bedford Forrest for the meanest confederate officer that ever lived," Grandpa Smith said when he released him from his cage. My Grandpa had bought him at the feed store on main street in downtown Pine Bluff. He came with a money back guarantee to make the hens lay more eggs.

I watched from a crouched position behind the safety of the back porch screen door. My left hand grasped the door handle while my right hand clutched a wicker basket half filled with straw. It was my job to gather eggs each morning. The only obstacle between me and the hen house was General Forrest.

It seemed like hours as I watched him parade and bob his head as he pranced his cocky strut. Occasionally he would peck at the ground for a bug, but only after the another chicken scratched the earth for him. He would sometimes dip his head and spring on top of one of the hens taking her to the ground. She would let out a tremendous squawk as if to say "Okay! Okay, I'll lay more eggs! Get off my back!"

I finally got my chance to go for the hen house when one of the geese got too close to the chicken feed, and General Forrest took out after him. I crept outside and closed the screen door behind me. I was very careful not to let it slam. Then, I ran as fast as I could toward the hen house, all the while keeping an eye out for General Forrest. Once inside, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

It was a good egg day thanks to General Forrest. Each nest had one, two. or sometimes three eggs in it. I gathered them up and carefully placed them on the soft straw in the basket. I peeked between cracks in the wall boards of the hen house. General Forrest was nowhere in sight. I eased my way outside and looked directly at the screen door on the back porch. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and that's exactly what I was going to do; Make a bee line for my Grandparents' back porch.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me while still keeping the basket upright so none of the eggs would bounce out. I was less that half the distance to the porch when out of the corner of my eye I spotted General Forrest. He was in flight about three feet off the ground coming directly at me. His wings were spread open and his spurs in a tilted position to strike me in the back.

My face took on a look of terror, because my feet wouldn't go any faster. I stretched out my arm reaching for the screen door, but I knew I still must have been twenty feet away from it. Two of the eggs bounced out of basket. I didn't give a thought of stopping to pick them up. They were probably smashed to smithereens anyway.

All at once the screen door swung open wide. My Grandpa had seen me running and came to my rescue. He reach out and swiftly pulled me inside to the safety of the back porch. I was never so glad to see anyone in my entire eight year life.

My Grandpa remarked "If that General Forrest wasn't such a good ladies' man I'd butcher him for Sunday dinner."

I cried out with a shaky voice "Since he's the meanest rooster in Arkansas, he'd probably be too tough to eat anyway!"

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