This is what happens after you just collected a basket full of eggs and the rooster attacks.
As soon as I saw that eight-pound @$#% give me the eye (you chicken people know The Eye), I switched to my tried-and-true defensive posture: I flailed about and shouting things that sounded a lot like "Eek! Eek!"—but manly, of course—at a psychotic bird intent on maiming the human. I'd liked to think the rooster and I reached a stalemate. The eggs, unfortunately, became, oh, so many casualties.