"Tell me again why we need two roosters." That was David, trying to sound patient, at the other end of the phone. 

How could I answer that when the fact is that nobody needs one? You don't need a rooster to get eggs. You only need a rooster to get fertilized eggs. If you are the squeamish type, please don't look into what the hatcheries do to address this, er, problem.  Just know that 24 hours after they're hatched, most male chicks are sleeping with the fishes. Is it just me, or does that seem just a tad bit unfair? How ironic that someone thought to dump him at a convent, of all places. Sister Lynn and I were talking about installing a grotto garden, near the statue of the Virgin Mary, when right out from under the thick brush, strutted the ugliest chicken I ever saw. Sister Lynn asked me to rescue him, and I told her the sad fact that I needed permission first. The truth is, my mind was already made up the moment I saw the hawk circling overhead. But I had already met my established quota for animals, and I knew enough to let little Zoe put the matter forward. She called him at work, and we held the phone between us so that we could both hear. But David wasn't falling for it, "Put your Mother on," he firmly told her. And that is how I found myself in the unenviable position of explaining why it was that we needed two roosters.