I was a farm kid in the early years, and some events were comical I thought. This one is one of those episodes. My grandmother was quite religious but granddad, not so much. I didn’t know she was making wine in the kitchen one day when I wandered in to see what was going on.

“Just cooking some grapes to make jelly.” I didn’t give it another thought, making jelly was always a specialty grandmother had and I always enjoyed her soda biscuits with home made jelly. I went on about my business. But wait, what was this little table setting in a corner by the dinning room table? I’m a kid, I’m curious so I go over to see what it is that is under the towel. I was surprised to find a one gallon glass jug and some other weird apparatus attached to it.

I went back to the kitchen to ask about the jug and when I did grandma about popped a cork. She said that if I was to look at that I would go blind, I was to leave that absolutely alone! Of course I just walked away in the opposite direction of the living room and went outside. I wasn’t blind, I had taken a look at it and there was nothing there that I could see that would blind me. When dad was welding out in the shop, it was easy to understand how you could be blinded watching the arc of the welder, but this jug had nothing like that at all. Maybe she was just trying to scare me.

A short time later, when I was messing around on the front porch, I heard a rooster crow. I never gave it another thought, they did that all the time. But the next time he crowed, it went a bit longer like the howl of a dog, that was not usual. This rooster was obviously causing a ruckus for some reason, but it didn’t really bother me all that much. But grandmother, well now that was another story. She was in the kitchen and she could hear the rooster real clear and it didn’t sound right to her.

She came out the front door and asked me to go find out what the heck was the matter with that rooster.


So I went off to see where he was and to find out what was going on. I could hear him crow, but I couldn’t see him anywhere, it sounded like he was in a pipe or maybe inside a piece of farm equipment that was stored close by. I went through the combine, crawled all over it trying to find that rooster, but he wasn’t in it.

He crows again, and now he sounds like he might be down in the basement, and off to the basement I go. Its dark down there, and damp but no dang rooster anywhere. As I came up the basement stairs he crows again, now it sounds like he might be somewhere over by the trash barrel, but where? Heading toward the trash barrel I heard the flapping of wings, from somewhere close by. It must be that rooster jumping around or trying to get out of that barrel. I was shocked to find the old bird in the bottom of a big pot that was setting next to the trash barrel.

He had gotten up on the edge of the pot and was standing there kinda wobbly, then he does that crazy crow, and falls back into the pot. It only took me a few seconds to figure out why this old bird was crowing so crazily. The bottom of that pot was covered with old dried out grapes from the kitchen that grandmother was making wine out of!

This was hilarious, a drunk rooster! I grabbed him out of there and set him down on the ground. He just sat there and wobbled around, he wouldn’t move. I gave him a kick which made him squawk real loud and off he run. Squawking and flapping, away he went toward the equipment shed where dad and my granddad were working, raising all kinds of a fuss. This drew the attention of grandmother, she had stepped out of the kitchen on the back porch and now saw Barnaby stumbling off down the driveway.


She asked me what was wrong with that rooster and I told her he was in the big pot eating grapes. Oh boy was she mad, “there is not going be any drunk roosters anywhere around here” and she started hollering for my grandpa Tim. Dad and grandpa came outside to see what was all the fuss all about and saw Barnaby acting crazy. This was funny to them too, because they also thought he was drunk. My uncle had set the pot down by the barrel, he was supposed to put the grapes into the trash. What happened to that poor rooster? Dinner that night was chicken dumplings and green beans with mashed potatoes.

Thinking back on those days is a lot of fun on a hot summer evening setting out on the back deck, listening to all the crickets and frogs.  It brings back memories.  Stop by again and share the shenanigans, adventures and true stories of It’s Pop’s Perspective.

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