Werner Scholles‘s egg stand at the Mainz market just wasn’t the same without his tame rooster strolling around the table top.
Moritz departed for the big hen house in the sky the other week and was replaced after a suitably long period of mourning by…Moritz.
A reincarnation?
No.
This is Moritz the Seventh.
Or maybe the Eighth.
We’re not really sure….
Advertisements
Pingback: Moritz 7.0 | abendteuerkunstler
John, this is a gorgeous shot. Really, really fine. I see magnificence in this bird, thanks to you.
Great detail shot of this fellow. I remember the farm behind our property where I grew up had a rooster routinely, and one would often hear them crowing.
We had a pet rooster in our kindergarten class way back when. His name was Herman and we could hear him every morning from our house a block away. The principal planted a box of chocolate eggs in his pen and told us they were from Herman. =D
Knowing you, you believed him…
Ah, this fine specimen must be Chaucer’s Chanticleer reincarnated: In all the land there was no match for his crowing; his voice was merrier than the merry organ that goes in church on mass-days. More trusty was his crowing in his yard than a clock or an abbey timepiece; he knew by nature each coming of the hour in that place for when each fifteen degrees were ascended, then he crowed so well that it could not he bettered. His comb was redder than fine coral and crenellated like a castle-wall. His black bill shone like jet; his legs and toes were like azure; his nails, whiter than the lily flower; and his hue, like burnished gold. To do all his pleasure, this noble cock had in his governance seven hens, his sisters and paramours, and very much like him in their markings; of these the one with the fairest hue on her throat was named lovely Mademoiselle Pertelote.
That was my favorite book as a kid. It made me a reader and a writer!