Sometimes It's Best Not to Ask

When I turn on the barn lights this morning, the rooster glares at me from the hay stall. He is perched on the sheep panels we have leaning against the wall. I don't ask how he became separated from the hens, nor why he was in the hay stall, nor how he got there. I don't ask if the llama chased him nor if he hopped on a ewe's back before flying over the fence. Instead, I grab him and toss him over the fence so that he can be with his hens.