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the rooster.

Last week I noticed that I hadn't heard my neighbor's rooster in a while. He wasn't one of those obnoxious types who crows at all hours of the night, so it took me a while, over the din of the ongoing and relentless construction noises next door, to notice that he'd stopped crowing. When I first moved here I loved the fact that chickens and roosters (and even the occasional duck) run around in urban areas. I have this romantic idea of them all running around in packs at night, like dogs or wolves, but that's actually not the case. Most of the time when you see a rooster he's by himself or with a female companion or two, and they're either in a chain pen or anchored by a rope lead of some sort. Last year during Tet while walking down a dusty side street in District 2 we came upon a gorgeous specimen of a fowl, standing proud at least 2 feet tall, feathers as clean as a whistle and lording it over the entire street while untethered. People tend to take care …

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