THERE’S the Safari everybody has been talking about in the town of Carmen, Cebu. And then there’s our humble abode in the middle of Cebu City. For some reason, the family has found itself busy raising roosters this time around.
A few meters away from my bedroom window, a rooster lets me know when it’s time to get up or, depending on how I chose to spend the night, time to sleep.
This rooster, perched on a makeshift wooden structure right behind our home, together with his elite company of other young fighting cocks (I know I am imagining this) join our dogs up front for the final tally. Thanks to these creatures, I am reminded daily of the importance of sleeping at the right time and its precious benefits. It is not the Playstation 4 nor the internet I blame for my nocturnal state but these animals that have chosen to take up roles besides their natural calling of being regular pets.
I live in a neighborhood beside a neighborhood notorious for drug activity and the like. I live beside a vacant lot where random strangers would pursue illegal activities such as injecting themselves with God knows what in broad daylight. I live in the same address already broken into at least twice. With one successful attempt, unfortunately, with the thieves getting away two cellphones richer.
This was all before the shar-peis were around. Huge dogs that loved the family and hated everybody else regardless of religion, race or fastfood outside the residence perimeter. Even midnight food deliveries aren’t as peaceful as they used to be. The pair would bark, in their low-sounding, ferocious way, but it’s a price we have to pay. Sure enough a couple of years after, some thieves tried to enter our place from the back. But some noise and a good mix of classic hysteria thwarted them. The roosters, however—the ones in the back as of present—are just there because we love animals.
So occasionally, the song demos I record feature a mix of crows and barks in the background. Like I mentioned, both species have sort of held their own parts of the daily sound spectrum using the break of dawn as their empty audio track. In the middle of silence, tucked in a lot away from the main road, the rooster would race the sun as to who woke up the neighborhood first.
And whether I was about to sleep or about to wake, I would stuff my head between two pillows as if that made any difference. A rooster’s crow, I’ve come to realize, has the irritating treble frequency akin to lo-fi music coming out of cheap cellphone speakers in full volume. It is annoying. The next time someone says your voice “cuts through the mix,” better think twice.
“If only God granted roosters a little bass, they wouldn’t be as irritating,” I thought. And it was at that moment that God, in His divine sense of humor, urged our shar-peis to join in the fun with their low-end barks.
“Yep.” It was time to put the PS4 controller down.