Well, he’s here. We—well, actually I—wanted a rooster friend...and man does Manny love to remind me of my wish at 4:30 every single morning!

“Cock-a-doooooo-dooo!” he crows from the top of my armoire, his preferred sleeping spot. “Cock-a-DOOOOO-dooo!” he greets the day.

Manny is not a patient bird. I can’t figure out what, other than company, he wants when, if I don’t get up within a minute or two of his first crow, he swoops down onto the bed, struts around Murphy, my long-suffering yellow lab, walks up to my face and STARES. It’s not food that he wants. His food is accessible—dried fruit on one tabletop, seeds on another—as is his water. I honestly think he simply wants us all to get up and begin the day together.

We were told by Aimee Hartmann of the ASPCA that Manny had been hanging around on a fence in the Bronx for a while before a brave soul worked up her nerve to capture him. She needn’t have worried; Manny is a sweetheart...with humans. He went to a home in Pennsylvania, but there were issues between Manny and the woman’s goose. So after spending a night in the Park Slope apartment of Jean Rhode, Manny made the trip out of Brooklyn, up the West Side Highway and the New York State Thruway to Catskill Animal Sanctuary.

He’s not a big guy, but don’t tell him that. As gentle as he is with humans, Manny has spent his first four days in my house trying to establish himself as head honcho among my animals. Initially fearful of Murphy and my two cats, Fat Boy and Mouse, he soon perceived that none of them were a threat. So fear became caution, caution became confidence, and yesterday when I walked in from the barn Manny was chasing poor Fat Boy through the living room!

“No, Manny! Bad bird!” I scolded, scooping him up and putting the rooster into his first Time Out.

That’s right. Manny got a Time Out. Why are you laughing? Jokes about chicken soup have no effect--the bird knows I'm vegan. Time Out just might work. He’s a smart bird—he’s a very smart bird—who will connect the dots quickly. Whether he’ll be able to control his behavior remains to be seen.

Ten minutes ago, Manny got his second Time Out after he decided to have sex with Murphy’s head. I was sitting on the sofa, reading a piece in the New York Times about foie gras production. Murphy was asleep on his bed right next to the sofa, and Manny had settled down next to him (bless my tolerant good good dog’s heart). Suddenly, no hens in sight, Manny was instead having sex with Murphy’s head.

Time Out Number Two.

Man, oh Manny.