The wild rooster of Pink Hill We actually saw a wild rooster, or should I say a “were-rooster.” It happened last fall when my brother Ben, dad and I went to the chicken house to do some work after the lights had gone out. There was a very large, bright full moon that night, and the moon had just come up over the tops of the trees. Ben had opened the large doors to the chicken house for us to get in with the tools, when all of a sudden we heard a pounding sound coming from down inside the chicken house, growing louder and getting closer. We turned to see what was making the noise when we saw a rooster come flying past us. It landed on the table we used to put the egg trays on. This rooster looked at the moon, threw back his head and let out a noise like I have never heard in all my years on this earth. It was not a crow like normal roosters make, it was more like a scream. That rooster then flew down off the table and ran straight into the woods, with us trying to catch it. As it ran into the woods, it turned its head around, looked at us, and stretching its left wing out behind him, waving at us as if to say, “See ya,” and he was gone. We have not seen head nor feathers of him since. But sometimes, when the moon is full, we hear a sound coming from the swamp that sounds like that scream we heard from the “were-chicken.” John
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