In 2006, a puppy came to live on a small farm in Colorado. His name was Oskar, and he was the runt of the litter. Oskar was a playful little guy, but on one fateful autumn day, he would learn that he was living in the dark shadow of a blood-thirsty assailant.
In the days leading up to that portentous afternoon, Oskar’s human companion became an unwitting accomplice to the ruthless creature prowling in her midst. So oblivious was she to the sheer aggression lurking inside the feathery beast that roamed her farm that her only worry was that the eventual perpetrator might instead become a victim.
Dogs are notorious for their appetite for fresh poultry, and she didn’t want her puppy to grow up to become a chicken killer. She googled “how to teach a dog not to attack chickens” and called her veterinarian friends. Everyone told her the same thing — the only surefire way to prevent a dog from attacking a chicken is to make sure that it never gets the chance.
The same might be said of the chicken. She kept several dozen of them at her farm, and one, in particular, stood out. They called him the Little Red Bastard. Red was a bantam rooster the size of a child’s slipper and angry as a bull on castration day. He was known to make grown men whimper as he tore his razor-sharp spurs into the back of their legs, and he’d become the neighborhood’s most notorious bully. Continue reading
