So the rooster had been quieter last week, or at least it wasn't waking me up (or maybe I was just dead tired from Tribeca Film Festival festivities). I almost thought he might be gone. Alas, it's not gone. And "it" is a "they," and they now have a home built for them. I heard the clucking Saturday afternoon, so I crawled out on my fire escape, and low and behold, I look at my neighbors with their ghetto yard, and I see 3-4 chickens/roosters roaming around the yard! Plus I see that a chicken coop has now been built for them. So I sort of chuckle about this -- wondering if said neighbors are cockfighters (Little Jerry Seinfeld!), fried chicken lovers, or egg harvesters. And I think it's rather charming, having a family of chickens next door, so I decide not to call the cops on them. (Although it did gross me out to see their kids out there running around with the chickens later...that can't be too sanitary, can it?) But I'm starting to reconsider the cop call since the chicken feed is evidently attracting a swarm of pigeons (aka flying rats) that were trying to fly into my bedroom window. And then at 5:45 a.m. the cock-a-doodle-do-ing was so loud that I had to break out the earplugs to get any sleep. Suddenly, living in "Green Acres" isn't so charming.