The Roosters. In which a collection roosts.

I thought it was about time to take the boys out for a walk so I'm letting them strut their stuff this week.

I'm not sure how or why or when the rooster collection happened, but (as many of you are thinking, looking around your kitchens) it just happened.

Visit Pinterest or eBay or Target or Wal-Mart or your parents' or grandparents' home or any fleamarket or antique shop in any state or in any country (including Iceland, as you know) and you will find roosters weathered and spanking new in the form of feathery figurines, plumed decor, or emblazoned on a wide variety of utilitarian items like kitchen towels.

I realize roosters are a very common collection and because of that it is easy to get collectibly carried away.  Trust me.

While undergoing our home addition a few years ago, we nearly doubled the size of our kitchen, but I also managed to lose the roost for one of my favorite collections when I made the decision to eschew upper cabinets.

The roosters had perched peacefully above the uppers for years and the collection had grown significantly (dusty) although without much significance. In other words, not all of them had a good story. They were either gifts or inexpensive finds that would excite me because they would help "fill up the space," a space I no longer had.

Sometimes (insert collectible name here) are hard to resist and sometimes they just seem to follow you home (or show up under the Christmas tree).

When you make the decision to become a collector you are often enabled along by thoughtful friends and family who see your collection as an opportunity to gift you every possible farm animal iteration available and soon your collection overflows its display space. 

Fortunately, losing my roosters' roost happened while I was reading Marie Kondo's The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and I was more than ready to purge.

I would like Marie to know that each and every member of my roost today brings me joy!

I'm taking this opportunity to coin "roost" as a collective noun for a collection or gathering of roosters.

Deal with it.

My roost began when I was a college student and I moved into my first apartment at Turtle Creek in South Bend (there were unfortunately no turtles, but there was sort of a creek, especially after a heavy rain or the first spring thaw). My mom gifted me that previously pictured Barcelos rooster (London, episode 9) which I suppose was a significant symbol that I may not have fully appreciated or understood at the time. My apartment was my first home and that tiny galley kitchen was its heart. The hand-painted hearts that highlight every Barcelos rooster reflect that nostalgic notion and the Barcelos' appearance in every Portuguese kitchen is a reflection of tradition, family, and love.

Those of you dear readers who have been following my secondhand travels for a while realize that Barcelos is not the oldest feathered friend in my (too) many collections. That honor goes to the twin weather owls purchased and rescued from my St. Teresa's Christmas fundraising kit (The Owls, episode 1). Barcelos, however, has more than enough sentimental value to ensure his roost's priceless position for a lifetime.

Barcelos is looking pretty good for 31!

Every once in a while I'm tempted by a friendly feathery figure while waiting for a Cracker Barrel table, but now that I've purportedly passed my younger and more vulnerable years, I'm (mostly) able to resist the temptation to add any more unsentimental tokens to the roost.

Mr. Hoosier joined the roost nearly five years ago during a Chicago-Indiana-Michigan visit during which I had my moment meeting Alice Walker at the American Library Association national conference in Chicago.

This 9-inch tall, dark, and handsome fellow was picked with pleasure at Picker's Paradise just outside Niles, Michigan.

You may remember that Picker's already has great sentimental value, if not a seemingly misplaced apostrophe (Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 1), so you can imagine that my cast-iron Hoosier rooster is a most welcome member of the family.

Comrade Петух is the most recent roost addition.

The 6-inch wide, hand-painted, flamboyant folk figurine made the transatlantic journey with his recently pictured Kolaportið fleamarketed friends, but was discovered in a touristically-wondrous mega souvenir shop in St. Petersburg (along with a few souvenir bottles of vodka).

Петух is about the right size for a measuring cup or even a soup shot of borscht (or other savory souvenir libation), but has yet to be pressed into domestic service.

Like my beloved Barcelos, Señor Gallo is also a roost veteran.

Mari rescued him when her mom completed her own roost purge about a decade ago and he has been happily transferred to our home where his well-worn patina helps brighten up the inside of the antique display cabinet.

El Señor may have a little chip on his right toes, but he doesn't have a chip on his shoulder about it.

True collectibles wear chips

like a badge of honor!

Murano Gallo may have had his humble beginnings on Italy's island of Murano, but was discovered during our World's Longest Yardsale travels somewhere in Tennessee or Kentucky nearly a decade ago.

I thought MG would be more at ease with his fellow signori in the kitchen rather than drawing unwanted attention to himself among the uniformly rotund millefiori paperweights displayed in the living room.

Remind me to take the paperweights out for a blog spin.

It's always fun to discover a cross-collectible that has a place in two beloved collections. (Killing two birds with one stone didn't seem appropriate while romanticizing roosters, but would have been pretty clever.)

MG is not the only glass rooster in my kitchen roost, however.

This final favorite is a two-inch blown-glass blob that was cleverly and artfully formed into rooster-shape. With pointy posterior at one end and colorful comb at the other, my most delicate member of the roost was originally intended as a Christmas ornament, but I just couldn't bear to tuck him away for an 11-month hibernation until the following Christmas season.

Plucked from New York City's Bryant Park Christmas Market during our visit to Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in 2008, Christmas Rooster suspends from an ornament holder inside the display cabinet with all the boys' attention turned towards him. Not to worry, he owns his flamboyance and is more than comfortable with the attention.

My roost of roosters is once again roosting its roost and the brothers are keeping colorfully careful watch over their designated corner of the kitchen despite all the feather-ruffling excitement of our photo shoot.

I have a brand new (to us) and long dreamed-upon fleamarket to share with you next time as well as a bit of a makeover to celebrate my 100th episode. Hope you will tune in!