Now this old gentleman was not always so, in his prime he was as sharp as a silver tack. During the war years he accumulated a fine yard of prime show Australorps, knowing that when the war ended, poultry shows would be on again in full swing and he was determined to be a step ahead of the rest when it happened. He bred his birds with consumate skill, mating this one with that one and culling the youngsters hard, so that only the very best remained.

After the war ended, his efforts were well rewarded, with bushells of fine ribbons, rosettes and certificates ending up in his possession. However as time wore on, other men and women began to catch up, and began winning their fair share of the prizes.

By this time, our friend had taken to judging poultry shows and never was there a person with a keener eye than he. And he still won many prizes when he donned the showman's coat and exhibited his birds. His skill with poultry extended far beyond breeding fine birds. The manner in which he could prepare a bird for the showpen became legendary. Quite simply, he put them down in almost perfect condition. Which brings us to the story...

One fine Sunday morning, our friend rose early as he was judging an important show. He shaved carefully, donned his best suit and tie, packed his judging coat in a small bag, popped his hat upon his head and was out the door. He was ready to perform his duties.

All the best breeders and showmen were present and there was over a thousand fine birds to assess. The morning progressed quietly, as poultry shows do, and our friend worked his way through his classes, handling this bird and that, making comments to the onlookers and generally enjoying himself. During the course of his duties, he came across a particular cockerel which caught his eye. The bird was not a world-beater, but something about him attracted our friend to him. He placed a third prize card on the pen and moved on.

After the judging was complete, he sought the owner of that cockerel and offered to buy him. Seeing as how one of the greatest judges had placed him a mere third, the owner gladly rid himself of the bird, selling him to our friend for five shillings (about 50 cents). Of course, back then, five shillings was a good price for a losing bird.

With bird tucked safely in a sack, the wise poultryman returned home. For the next eight weeks he spent hours with the cockerel, preening him, training him to stand correctly, washing him, oiling his feathers and doing other secret things known only to old showmen. He entered the bird in a big show and waited for the day to arrive.

As you may guess, the cockerel not only won his class, but went on to win the best bird in show award... a very prestigious thing to do, and quite fiscally profitable. Later in the day, a gentleman approached our friend and offered to buy the winning bird. After a few minutes haggling, a price was agreed upon and money changed hands. The agreed price was a princely ten pounds (about 20 dollars), which was a tidy profit on the price he had paid for the bird some weeks before. Our friend went home a well-pleased man. The gentleman who purchased the winning bird went home well-pleased too, however he may well not have been so happy, had he realised his new acquisition was the very same bird he had sold our friend for five shillings only two months before!