The latest episodeĀ from the talking bird from Turkey ~ Brian guest writer from Uncle Spikes AdventuresĀ
just read on… Ā here isĀ Chapter 12 ~ Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā [ Ā Ā catch up link to previous episodes ⤠ ]
Hey Aunty Gill ā yep, Iām still here!
BUTā¦
Iām āon noticeā, as Farmer Spike says, and may help add to the bags of frozen soup if I donāt change my ways ā oops! You see, this past month or so Iāve been having some teenage issues, and Iāve done some dumb stuff Aunty Gill .

Every day, Farmer Spike lets us out from under the steps, a.k.a. āhomeā, 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, weāve come to expect such offerings every morning and again at dusk.
When Farmer Spikeās mom is here, or Great Aunt Spike as we call her, she usually feeds us biscuits around 4 oāclock in the afternoon too. This is ace, and we learnt to scoff right out of her hand too ļ Sheās an octogenarian apparently; although I have absolutely no idea what that is, coz she only has two arms n legs, not eight!

Anyway, talking of Great Aunt Spike and her arms n legs; well, thatās 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⦠Nowā Iām 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 didnāt listen much.

No biccies for a few days.
A week later, and Great Aunt Spike went back home, after another seven week ātour of dutyā here on Spikeās Farm. Now, Farmer Spike doesnāt do ābicciesā 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 oldāun, and I received a steel-toed boot up my feathered jacksy for my sins. Ouch that hurt [grrrrr]; but Farmer Spike wasnāt done, oh no. He chased after me, shouting all sorts of stuff I wasnāt sure of (but sounded naughty I think).
Anyway Aunty Gill, Iām still here, but Farmer Spike says if I do that one more time, then Iāll be helping him make some soup. Now, Iām not quite sure what that entails, but he seemed to imply I wouldnāt 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




























Ā Duke the talking Rooster has come all the way from Ā Turkey Ā atĀ
Two rooster like me. So here I am again, writing to my favouriteĀ aunty about what is happening over here on the farm; after all, itās a brand new year, even here, but something has changed, and I donāt like itā¦















