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When I was about 12 my Granfather (moms side) and a buddy of his were standing around when his buddy looked over and muttered a question to him. He looked at me and said "You ever been spurred? I didn't have the faintest, then they encouraged me to climb this fence into his friends field.

I'm standing around, trying to figure out what the hell they're up to, and I see this chicken tearing ass across the field toward me. I just figure "a chicken" and went back to trying to figure out what was up. Mr. chicken was then upon me like shine on a bowling ball, YEEOOWW!, and you couldn't really fend it off because any appendage you stuck out became the immediate focus of attack and the bugger was faster than snot.

I lit out for the fence and scrambled back over, and my Grandfather and his buddy were just about in tears laughing. Hyuck Hyuck... Veeery funny. Needless to say, I knew what getting "spurred" was thereafter :)

Dad had an old Rhode Island Red rooster that terrorized my little sister for years.
We never could figure out why that bird hated her guts, but he sure did.
Nobody threw a hissy fit over it.
Dad just told her to stay the h*ll outta the rooster's way.

*If* "Mother Goose" been nailed by a big ol' Barred Plymouth Rock, maybe I could see her complaint. LOL!