We’re on our third summer of chickens, and second batch of
chicks. This time one of the hens is
not. We wanted an all-hen flock to stay
on the good side of the neighbors (and our weekend sleep). But sexual politics among chickens turns out
to be not so simple. A hen in the first batch developed spurs and
made teenage-voice-cracking attempts of crows at random hours. Most of the hens hopped on top of each other
in some imitation of sex, but now we have the real deal. The surprised squawk of mounted chickens exclaims
the day. Supposedly, the presence of a
rooster will tame the viciousness of the pecking order, which I’m sure the two
balding hens appreciate. Though
his spurs are only just starting to emerge as little wart-like growths on his
legs, his neck and tail feathers have grown long and luxurious, which I imagine
him flaunting Fabio-style. His comb is
bigger and redder than the rest. And
this week he began to crow. It sounds
like a young girls’ giggle, a double-syllabled coo, still unsure and
timid. But he is taller than the rest
and always in the forefront. Maybe his
song will strengthen when his flock sisters begin to lay and thus provide evidence
of his prowess. The old ladies’ egg
production is down to a trickle while the young ones are just figuring out what
the boxes are for ( seems we should have
gotten a new batch of chicks EACH spring rather than skipping one).
http://www.trumblydesigns.com/Gallery.html For our 13-year anniversary, we bought ourselves a painting of a glorious rooster by Trumbly. On it is written, “He dreamt of a land where roosters ruled and magnolias never ceased to bloom”. |
I hope our rooster has such notions….