A Story Worth Telling

Another sorry tale, we thought of abandoned animals left to fend for themselves. But this time, kindness came calling. When rangers declined to attend as “poultry” rarely counts, we dashed across country to beat nightfall and the mouths of hungry foxes. What we found though, was not one rooster and two hens, but five starving roosters haunting the grounds of a derelict pub.

The first, a fiery sentinel we named Napoleon, hurled himself at our ankles. He was quick, but we were quicker. And as our hands sunk into his magnificent, bronzed feathers, we felt the sharp edge of his keel bone. His hunger was as raw and long as the pub was empty.

One down, four to go. The others scattered into shadows and scrub, but we pledged we would find them. And though we would name them with humour, this masked a darker truth.

Robin Hood led us a merry chase through withered agapanthus. Pablo Picasso darted like a brushstroke in the wind. James Dean, slick and handsome with a flash of white on his earlobes, was caught with equal parts luck and skill.

Ah, but Sir Francis Drake, he outdid them all, vanishing into the pub’s deep, dark cellar. Silence fell as the realisation hit—no way in and no way out.

Until the cavalry arrived.

“Hello, SES? Yes, we need a rescue, please. For a rooster.”

Moments later, a towering SES truck rumbled onto the scene. Four kind humans ready to serve a life—no matter how small. With a ladder lowered and lights shining, it was over almost before it began. And Drake was gently lifted to safety.

Five roosters saved. Five fragile lives spared.

They were thin, frightened, yet fierce. They resisted with the only superpower they had—the will to live.

And we returned it with ours—kindness.

We humans often call ourselves the “higher species.” But what is higher about abandoning the innocent? What is superior in discarding those whom we are responsible for?

Most roosters never live to crow their first dawn. Seen as a problem to be solved, they are all too often dumped or destroyed. But these five chose to resist. They ran. They fought. They defied a force so much bigger than themselves. And in their defiance, we saw a reflection of our own truth.

We are animals too.

We breathe the same air. We fear the same dangers. We crave the same warmth, safety and connection.

That Friday, we didn’t just see five roosters. We saw five lives, five stories, all reminders of what we share.

And that, perhaps, is the only story worth telling.