Oh Brian! What did you do? ….”Got Told Off, I Did!”

The latest episode from the talking bird from Turkey ~ Brian guest writer from Uncle Spikes Adventures 

just read on…   here is Chapter 12 ~               [   catch up link to previous episodes  ❤  ]

Hey Aunty Gill – yep, I’m still here!
BUT…
I’m “on notice”, as Farmer Spike says, and may help add to the bags of frozen soup if I don’t change my ways – oops! You see, this past month or so I’ve been having some teenage issues, and I’ve done some dumb stuff Aunty Gill .
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Every day, Farmer Spike lets us out from under the steps, a.k.a. ‘home’, and throws us a hand full of barley each to peck at. To be honest, Farmer Spike is a nice guy, as even though we roam free each day, and this food is not a necessity, we’ve come to expect such offerings every morning and again at dusk.
When Farmer Spike’s mom is here, or Great Aunt Spike as we call her, she usually feeds us biscuits around 4 o’clock in the afternoon too. This is ace, and we learnt to scoff right out of her hand too  She’s an octogenarian apparently; although I have absolutely no idea what that is, coz she only has two arms n legs, not eight!
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Anyway, talking of Great Aunt Spike and her arms n legs; well, that’s part of my problem. In my excitement to scoff said biccies each day, I started to follow her. Then one day I wanted the biccies before she was ready, and then sort of chased her… Now’ I’m a placid sort of chap really, but biccies are just sooooo yum, that I sort of lose myself. Then one day I went too far, and side-kicked Great Aunt Spike with my spurs (rear facing fighting talons), tearing a small gash in her leg, and receiving a few cuss words and a wave with her stick in doing so. Great Aunt Spike told me off big time, but being a bolshie teenager, I didn’t listen much.
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No biccies for a few days.
A week later, and Great Aunt Spike went back home, after another seven week ‘tour of duty’ here on Spike’s Farm. Now, Farmer Spike doesn’t do ‘biccies’ for us, and so we were feeling a little put out, so guess what this little dumb-butt did; I side-swiped Farmer Spike too in my frustration about the biccies dilemma.
Oops, my bad! He is quicker than I thought for an old’un, and I received a steel-toed boot up my feathered jacksy for my sins. Ouch that hurt [grrrrr]; but Farmer Spike wasn’t done, oh no. He chased after me, shouting all sorts of stuff I wasn’t sure of (but sounded naughty I think).
Anyway Aunty Gill, I’m still here, but Farmer Spike says if I do that one more time, then I’ll be helping him make some soup. Now, I’m not quite sure what that entails, but he seemed to imply I wouldn’t like it.
Well, best off… will write towards the year end. Love n stuff Aunty Gill, from yer Rooster Nephew, Brian xx

Dear Brian
Behave yourself!
Take my advice…
Love Aunty Gill xxx

Rooster News: Brian the… er…. boss says…..”My first review sucked!”

Follow the regular guest spot from Uncle Spike’s Farm in Turkey!
Here is the latest… (episode 10) Press logo for catch-up or just read on!

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Hey Aunty Gill – yep, I’m still here!
There’s been loads of our neighbours volunteering to go work for Mrs Fox (dunno how many more workers she needs like), but anyway, she hasn’t come asking at ours for a while, so me and the gang are still as was 
Biggest news round these parts was old Mary (well, she’s old to me; at least by 9 months, I’m sure of it), decided to become a mom. She started to not come in at night, and Farmer Spike kept finding her sat in the nesting box, but never any eggs there. “Ah, this ones’ gone all broody, looks like”, he said to nobody in particular one evening.
Oh by the way, I’ve been practicing my singing like I said I would – here’s me mid ‘pre-song-flap’ 

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So anyway, the next day, I saw Mary was behind bars. Well, at least that’s what I’d thought. Actually, Farmer Spike had prepared a nesting box all of her own, and added eleven eggs to it. He’d then caught up with Mary and stuck her back under the stairs, with this box, and then closed the gate to ‘encourage’ her to sit on the eggs; which she did.
Trouble was, old Mary, who isn’t that old, has never had kids, and was pretty lame at the sitting lark. She would sit for hours alright, but kept on breaking the darned eggs. However…. phooey, what a stink!! I reckoned it was my cooking, but he’s not into curry much, so I guess it was the eggs after all. After just fifteen of the required twenty days sitting, the place stunk…. And she had ALMOST NO EGGS LEFT; all had been broken, bar one, and Farmer Spike removed that (very carefully too I might add!) – he said that rotten eggs were very ‘light’, hence he ‘knew’ that last one was no good either. He carried it off slowly, and lobbed it over the fence into the deep ditch…. BANG (he was right – another phooey smell over there too).
The next day, over a bowl of water, I was telling Missy all about the goings on. She reckoned Farmer Spike wouldn’t be best pleased…

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She was right. Farmer Spike was grumpy, having ‘wasted 11 eggs’ at a time when the girls maybe lay one between them each day (they like a holiday in the summer). Farmer Spike says maybe old Mary was just no good at being a mom, but then he suggested another, yet more sinister accusation…. Was the rooster (aka, ME) just firing ‘blanks’? Not sure what that means yet Aunty Gill, but he said for my first ‘review’, my future as Rooster wasn’t looking good. Oops.
Best wishes from Rooster Nephew, Brian xx

Oh dear Brian! Love the singing photo of you and what a lovely photo of your gorgeous feathery bottom! But you and Mary sound like a couple of feather brains to me!Perhaps you had both  better put in some study time about making babies. Read the manual these darker nights! I hope things improve soon. It sounds serious to me….
Love Auntie Gillxxx

Meet Brian !

….with the latest Rooster News. Brian is the new talking bird….all the way from Uncle Spike’s farm in Turkey….
(formerly Duke’s Diaries) read on…

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”The world has changed”….. First off, can I call you Aunty Gill too? As the new rooster in town, Farmer Spike said part of my job is to be a nephew to a rather nice hooman – ok, I’m cool with that, and that I should write to you once a month, definitely cool with that too !
As you know, your rooster nephew from Türkiye, the ‘recently-left-for-greener-pastures’ Duke-Cocka-Locky, was a bit of a celebrity all right, what with blogging in foreign lands, trying to take on big man Pablo every three months, as well as his antics in the woodshed!
Talking of Pablo, I know you were expecting him to pick up Duke’s pen, but he too has moved on. He didn’t follow our Duke, just decided to become an overnight statue; found still stuck on his perch the other morning – the old ticker must’ve given out from all his carrying on with his (ahem), ’duties’. This is the last photo Farmer Spike took of Pablo, just for you Aunty Gill.
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So anyway, that left the senior ladies all alone… and then along came me. And this is my first ever photo – not quite got the hang of what to do yet.
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There I was, living with my brothers on Soup Row. That’s what we call it where us boy chooks live. It’s a kinda big pen made of sumfink called chainlink fencing, even on the top to stop Mrs Fox trying to munch our toes. It’s not a bad life out there, with nice grub every morning and night from Farmer Spike. Oh, why “Soup Row”? Well that’s just coz we help make ‘soup’; whatever that is…
Mary, one of the grown-up chooks, or ‘outsiders’ (coz they live ‘on the outside’), told us about Duke, and then Pablo, and that that meant no man to play with. The next evening, just before dusk, Farmer Spike came down to see us a second time – we’d already had some barley an hour before, so it was a surprise seeing him again. Curious times as I recall Aunty Gill !!
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Farmer Spike then opened the door to the pen and came into Soup Row. Now, we know he’s not gonna join us, not unless he’s really upset Aunty Spike, so we all wondered what was going on! We know Farmer Spike well, as he looked after us when we were baby chooks. He looked at us all one by one, and then smiled at me and said “Now then son, you are destined for glory me old musher; and boy are you gonna like this!” And with that he grabbed me and shoved me into a big sack. That was okay, sacks are safe places, and all chooks know that, so I settled down happily…
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An hour or so later, Farmer Spike took the sack, with me inside, and we went for a short walk…. And you’ll never guess what happened next Aunty Gill; he opened the sack and there I was, in the main chook pen with the grown-up ladies, yes I was suddenly in with the ‘outsiders’! One of the ladies wasn’t best pleased to see me, and pecked my butt for a good twenty minutes, so then Farmer Spike put lots of feed sacks to cover the hard wire door, making it really dark,…… sleep time.
The next day I started to figure it all out. I was there with the ‘outsiders’, no rooster about, just me. Hold on, I am the rooster now, and I’ve been given the name of “Brian”. The next photo is me mid ‘crow’ – I’m not that good at it yet, so I’ll have to keep on practicing. Oh, and Aunty Gill, another thing, you’ll never guess what part of my job is – yikes!!!!
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Best wishes from your newly appointed Rooster Nephew, Brian xx

Dear Brian Rooster Nephew,
Thank you for taking over Duke’s pen and for  the last photo of poor Pablo.Its sad about Pablo…. but it is wonderful to meet you. Let us hope you have a long and happy stay with the hens. Enjoyed your story here so looking forward to more from you next month. ….. Mean while take care and see you soon!
Best wishes Auntie Gill X