A rogue cockerel, facing charges of disturbing the peace in the sleepy village of Scorton, near Richmond, North Yorkshire, has so far managed to dodge attempts to track him down.

Steve Parsley turned detective to hunt the elusive bird responsible for complaints to the local council.

I HAD done stakeouts before but this one looked like it was gonna be a tough egg to crack.

The word on the street was that someone had been getting a little outta hand.

We all know boys will be boys, but when the racket going down disturbs the neighbourhood nights, guys like me are gonna get involved.

I arrived in the dark and waited; if there was gonna be any crowing, I wanted to hear it for myself.

But I was clean outta luck. There wasn't a squawk from our guy and it seemed we were gonna have to play hard ball. It was time to talk to the people in the know.

Tony Simms is a good guy, trying to make a living, and I was kinda hoping he could steer me to first base.

Sure enough, he'd caught wind of the trouble.

"I haven't heard anything myself, but it's certainly got Scorton talking,'' he said. "The general view is that it's what you have to expect if you're going to live round here and, to be honest, there isn't much sympathy for those who have complained to the council.''

Tough talk, maybe - but hey, I don't make the rules.

Leaving Tony's store, I spotted a guy with The Look; y'know? Barbour jacket, Wellington boots. Maybe he'd put me on to something.

"You want to talk to Ian Threlfall," he says. "He'll put you right."

Turns out this guy is one of the big shots; he chairs the parish council and knows a thing or two - but he ain't saying much either.

"To be honest, I think most people are hoping it's all going to die down soon. It should be a matter of live and let live around here.''

But, if you want answers, you gotta ask questions. I thought maybe I'd hit pay dirt knocking on doors in the neighbourhood where the racket had been reported at its worst.

Most didn't want to get involved but, sure enough, one broad gave me my first clue: "I haven't heard anything to disturb me, but there is one who can be really annoying as he never seems to finish. He just stops after the cocka-doodle and doesn't bother with the do."

It wasn't much to go on but it was something - and I wasn't giving up that easy; even if it meant leaning on a few prime suspects.

Hans Waltl's brood are among those in the frame, although he made it clear he doesn't want trouble.

"No one wants this to become an old village/new village issue," he says. "I think everyone wants to see this dealt with amicably."

Perhaps to prove it, he promises to secure some time with all the suspects.

I figure that by listening to them, I can pin down the culprit with the stutter.

But, as is sometimes the case in this game, the good guys don't always win. There may have been a shifty look in some of their eyes, but every single one either had an alibi or a voice as clear as a bell.

"Trouble is, there are sometimes up to eight of these guys in the area and some are a little feral," said Hans.

"They don't respect boundaries, especially at this time of year, so it's anyone's guess who's to blame."

Some may say he was being cute but, after a while in this game, you get to know when someone's leading you by the nose - and Hans didn't seem to be one of them.

But, whatever, it means our guy is still out there and maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but, one day, the chickens will come home to roost.