Roosters

When I was five years old, living in Salem, Indiana (population 3,000) I was given the magical Easter gift of three live - and dyed! – chicks.  Yes, I realize it’s animal cruelty and of course this practice has long since been banned.  But we’re talking 1961, here in a country town. 

I named these three chicks Rainbow, Beauty and Silver. 

Silver, the blue one, lived and thrived in my step-grandparents’ hen house, where – to my five-year-old utter amazement – was the only hen to lay brown eggs.  That way I could always pick her out when I went to gather eggs for my grandmother, Lula. 

Thus began my love of chickens. 

We had no roosters in the hen house, but I love roosters probably more than chickens for their beauty and majesty. 

Roosters, Roosters -- everywhere!

Roosters, Roosters -- everywhere!

Once it’s known that you collect something, everyone gives you that collectible, so my kitchen is absolutely crammed with every type of rooster imaginable. 

Did you catch the paper towel holder?

Did you catch the paper towel holder?

They keep us company while we eat

They keep us company while we eat

One of my favorites is from John, a giant white ceramic guy he surprised me with one Christmas.  He lives in our front kitchen window. (The rooster that is!)  

I dearly love Barney and Clara, a pair from my friend Nancy who hang out near the stove. 

My friend Honey just gave me the Picasso rooster print, which hangs in a place of honor in the living room. 

And my thoughtful mother-in-law just gave me two darling little rooster planters.  I can’t wait to fill them with herbs!

What things do you collect? What is the story behind your own collections?