So I was hanging my sheets out on the fence the other day (yes, I have a redneck/ghetto clothesline...but a real one is on the honey-do list) and from the chicken coop I heard this awful din that sounded something like a cross between a wound up jack-in-the-box, a dying animal and....a rooster's crow.
I had suspected for a while that there may be some dastardly roosters among the lady fowl *insert horrified gasp here*
Three of the five chickens have much more prominent combs and wattles than the other two, but I had chalked these features up to either age or breeding differences. My suspicions were confirmed by the particularly noisy one in question when he started acting like he had a lot more testosterone than the others, charging at me and trying to peck my toes when I would go out to feed.
(I need to mention here that I have a bit of a phobia of chickens pecking me to death...which did not bode well for said rooster.)
Now we had to figure out what to do with the offender. My husband suggested dropping him off in the desert to fend for himself, but I vetoed. We thought about eating him, but he wasn't big enough, and we couldn't keep him around to fatten him up because of all the racket he was making. I made several calls to friends who either had chickens or lived out in the country, and finally found a kind soul who said that her family would take him off our hands.
So off he went to his new home....now we're just watching the other two to see if they cross over to the dark side.
jen g.
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