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When I was no more than five we lived on a farm where we had a small number of chickens and a rooster from hell. This rooster was mean, and he would always attack me whenever I came near the coop. This was quite the problem as gathering eggs was one of my daily chores. After a while, it became a habit for me to always carry my big red plastic baseball bat with me to hold him off until I could safely slip back out with the eggs. I swear it became a sort of rivalry between us.
One calm summer day my little sister was toddling around on the front lawn near the coop when I saw a red streak heading towards her and realized that the rooster had gotten out. My mother, who was watching just heard me start yelling, "Oh no, oh no!" as I ran toward my sister. I was able to get in between her and the rooster, but as soon as he saw me he wrapped his legs around my ankle (I was wearing shorts) and started pecking. My mother who was there just moments after me scooped up my sister and was able to get the bird off of me, but, by then, my leg was thoroughly bloody.
Needless to say, the rooster didn't last too long after that.
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