COLUMN: Rooster

Well, it's official -- I played chicken with karma, and I lost.

Long-time readers may remember the great Chickengate scandal of 2016. That's when the Rock Island city council held a vote on whether or not to allow urban backyard chicken-keeping within city limits. And that's when I decided to write a column about it. Spoiler alert: it was not especially PRO-chicken.

Truth be told, I have ZERO vested interest in the debate. I honestly couldn't tell you if I give a rat's behind about urban chickens, because I've never been around an urban chicken in my life (or a rat, for that matter.) I wrote the column mostly to make fun of my disdain for nature and propensity to be allergic to my own shadow. But I stand by my reasoning. Chickens are messy and not the friendliest of fowl, and taking care of them is a big responsibility. If you're really into raising chickens and keep a well-maintained operation, I'm cool with it. But if you've got a messy, stinky coop in your backyard just because urban chicken-keeping is trendy and cool, I'm not a fan.

So I wrote a light-hearted column back in 2016 that took some admittedly cheap jabs at the eco-friendly, chicken-loving hipster stereotypes. Suffice it to say some feathers got ruffled. Letters were written. Angry pro-chickeneers visited our lobby. My car got egged. I came home to a pile of chicken poop lovingly placed on my back steps. Clearly, the local backyard chicken mafia are not to be toyed with.

I tried to make amends. I wrote a mea culpa the following week, and even accepted an offer from a local chicken owner to come meet her hens, Lila and Lola. Did they stare at me with murder in their eyes? Nah, they didn't seem to acknowledge my existence. Were they stinky? Nope. Were they mean? I didn't exactly go in for a friendly hug, but I didn't see any trails of blood or noticeable scarring on their owners, so I wasn't especially horrified.

I'm still not a huge fan of chickens that haven't already been shaked and/or baked, but there's no further need to egg my house, promise. I learned my lesson. Besides, the resolution passed, and folks in Rock Island have been able to keep chickens in their backyards since 2016. Other than Lila and Lola, I've yet to spot a single feather. I've not been attacked by any runaway poultry hellbent on vengeful bloodlust. I haven't had to adjust my daily Claritin intake. It's pretty much been a non-issue.

Until this week.

In a perfect karmic twist of fate, my neighbors now have chickens. I learned this delightful fact four days ago at precisely 5:14 a.m. when I woke up instinctively DUCKING, assuming based on the noise that pterodactyls were circling overhead. Nope, just a rooster. I'm not even sure which house he belongs to. I've yet to see him, but he's definitely made his presence known. A crowing rooster really has a magical way of cutting through walls, time, and space.

I'm not the only one bothered. Every time it lets loose its morning song, my cats freeze in place and stand there, mouths hanging open like they've been lulled into rooster hypnosis. 

Finally, my neighborhood has a noise MORE annoying than my security sensor. My outdoor cameras emit a shrill beep any time they sense an intruder on the property. Trouble is, a stiff breeze can sometimes be enough to set them off. I'm sure the neighbors already hate me a little. But NOW, whenever that sensor beeps, it makes the rooster crow. This can't end well.

I'm fully aware that I deserve this. I dissed chickens in print -- plus, as a weekend DJ, I've surely annoyed a fair share of people with loud music over the years. This is all karmic justice. I SHOULD be able to accept my fate and live in peace with my new feathery neighborhood alarm clock. 

Say, here's a random fun fact: Did you know that in the state of Illinois, with the correct permit, you can also keep FOXES as pets? And as a completely unrelated follow-up question, does anyone happen to know who the WORST fence-builders in Rock Island are and how I might be able to reach them? Asking for a friend.