Cock-a-doodle Don’t

I couldn’t leave without painting one of these guys. However, they were the bane of my life in my first year here. They don’t crow at dawn; they crow all night from about 2am. Also, when you’re in the depths of sleep, their squawking very much resembles the night time scream of a small child, of which I had two. Therefore, rather than wake up thinking, ‘darn roosters’, I would leap out of bed wondering which child needed urgent help. Now, they can make as much noise as they like: I sleep through. Although this maybe thanks to the white noise of my lovely box fan. Not only does it drown out the roosters, but crying children, backfiring golf carts, Junkanoo practices, drunken Spring Breakers, barking dogs, etc etc.

Oil on canvas, 18″X24″
Your classic streetwise, Briland rooster walking up Churchill Street

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