Johnny Bravo is quite happy, out scratching with his hens, flicking leaves and bits of earth into the air and generally looking like he owns the place. He keeps a watchful eye on his girls, as any respectable rooster should.
But up at the chicken hok, there is a nameless young rooster who has recently discovered his voice and, more importantly, discovered that Johnny can hear him. A young import from Mooi River, rumour has it – brought in to improve genetics. If you can believe that! The “young rooster” hasn’t even grown into a name yet and the farmyard knows, that that is changing point in your farmyard pecking order.
One of the ladies left up at the chicken hok gives a small call. The young fellow fellows with a tentative cock-a-doodle-doo!
Johnny stops scratching.
Head up. One eye narrowed. One eye listening.
Then he answers.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
The young rooster fires back.
Johnny answers again.
Before long, the two of them are standing at opposite ends of the garden, crowing back and forth like two men having an argument neither intends to lose.
Eventually, the young rooster gives one particularly bold call from the hen house.
Johnny has had enough.
He turns and runs back to the chicken house, hens forgotten for the moment, feathers flying and dignity somehow still intact. He only stops when the young rooster falls silent.
Peace.
Johnny stands there for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
Then, just to make absolutely certain everyone knows who is in charge, he stretches his neck, puffs out his chest and lets out one enormous final COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
Johnny Bravo may tolerate another rooster in the farmyard but he always has the last crow.
