Pete Lassen said:
a long time ago in a life far,far removed from current reality, I was a kindly 4 year old child with a taste for bread an butter. one fine day I had 2 slices of Wonders finest in my hands and was sent outside to enjoy the warm summer day. I sat on a tree stump and was joined by one of our peacocks and our Australian Shepard, Vicki. Life was good for all as I shared my hated crusts with Vicki and the male peacock, until all crust material was gone, the last pieces to the peacock as my grandpa had come out of his house 100 feet or so away, and Vicki had started toward him. The peacock, sensing his free lunch gone, attacked me, clawing and pecking as I attempted to cover and run it was scratching my face and hurting me when suddenly it was gone, Vicki the dog had grabbed it momentarily knocking it off me and my grandpa swiftly grabbed it as it was coming at me again and proceeded to windmill it about 3 or 4 times until its head was removed. I had several deep scratches, some still visible gouges, one within a inch from one eye and a long standing wariness anywhere near one of those time bombs, and I am not too fond of NBC either.
Note about my grandpa, he had long before my arrival lost his right arm to an old hay baling machine, so he literally saved me one handed. he hated wearing the hook thingy they had for him to wear.
Sorry about the distant relative, Rooster. Well not really, he started it.
I hear young pea hens taste good. Did grandpa stew the Peacock. I hate to see good meat go to waste
