Obituary - Androscoggin Rooster, 2006-2009 (Approximately)

We gather today—briefly, and with appropriate caution—to mourn the passing of Androscoggin Rooster, a strikingly handsome Partridge Rock with a flair for drama and a taste for human ankles. He died today at American Way Farm in northern New Hampshire, following a brief but ill-advised scuffle with his owner, Sandy.

In recent weeks, Androscoggin and Sandy had reached what could best be described as a tense truce. There had been… incidents. And discussions. And a few choice words. And, for a time, there was peace in the barnyard.

That illusion shattered yesterday.

Perched on a fence post like a feathered gargoyle, Androscoggin launched a surprise aerial assault while Sandy attempted the simple act of opening a gate. He was promptly confronted and retreated to the hen house like the overconfident barnyard bully he was. Another “come-to-Jesus” conversation ensued, in which Sandy clearly laid out the terms: one more incident, and it would be his last.

Apparently, Androscoggin did not take her seriously.

This morning, as Sandy was lovingly tending to a newborn lamb—a pure, gentle moment of peace and maternal devotion—Androscoggin saw his chance for vengeance. Like a mustache-twirling villain in a bad Western, he charged. He flapped. He flogged. He bit off more than his spurs could handle.

Sandy, channeling the wrath of every woman who’s ever had one too many things go sideways before breakfast, left the lamb, fetched the .22, and ended the skirmish with a single shot. He was dispatched swiftly and his body was tossed over the fence into the waiting jaws of the dog. All that remains are a few loose feathers, some entrails, and the faint echo of a warning crow.

A brief memorial service will be held this evening from 8:00 to 8:01 pm, or until someone brings up what's for dinner. Burial of remains will take place when the snow melts.

No charges are being filed, as authorities have ruled it a clear-cut case of barnyard self-defense.

Androscoggin is survived by 12 hens, none of whom appear particularly broken up about it. In fact, morale in the coop seems noticeably higher.

Condolences and expressions of sympathy (or victory dances on behalf of the hens) may be posted in the comments below. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you simply respect personal space and never underestimate a farm woman with a rifle.