So you all know about my rooster woes, right? The fact that I have five chickens crowded into a small fenced area, due to the existence of a single, renegade rooster living on the outside?
I’ve had about my fill of roosters fighting to the death, so these guys will remain separated until I can solve the problem. The solution, naturally, is that I plan to kill the crazy rooster and have him stuffed. Of course. Who wouldn’t, right?
Apparently no one would.
But that’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.
The only problem right now is that we just can’t come to a clear agreement on how to actually go about the killing of him. I suspect that is our lame excuse for avoiding it all together. I mean, really. Who wants to kill anything in cold blood?
Not me.
And also, apparently, not Dave.
Hunting is far more sporting. It’s another thing entirely to walk out there with sole the intention of catching him and killing him. Just like that. No sporting chance.
I know, because I have tried. And, I’ve always ended up watering the sunflowers instead.
Go figure. I must like the guy on some level.
Did I tell you he flew off the roof and tried to get me in the face the other day?
Well he did. And I’m still somewhat amused by him.
Oh, we’ve talked and talked the killing to death (get it? to death?) and we’re no where nearer to an answer than we were a month ago. It has to be as quick as possible. No suffering:
- death by drowning
- death by carbon monoxide
- death by wringing of neck
- death by .22
- death by slitting of throat
- death by Lola
OK, Lola is out. That would definitely involve terror and therefore suffering.
Anyway. We were out of town for the last several days (hence no updates in the last week) and I hadn’t checked on the chickens since I got back. I had Charlie run out there last night to ascertain that all was well. Why I would trust either of my kids to such a task, I have no idea. Remember, these are the same kids that didn’t notice a dead hen, despite their assurance to me that they had counted them, for over a week. When I went out there, all I found were some ribs and a wing.
However, since I could hear both the loud and shrill crazy crow of The Chieftain, and the gargled, strangling sound of the immature Chicken Little rooster, I figured Charlie was right.
That was last night.
This morning, as I was laying in bed, I heard a disturbing sound. It was a distinct bird like call, chicken in nature, that was neither the young rooster or the crazy rooster’s crow.
It chilled me to the very bone.
A third rooster? Surely not!
After dropping the kids off, I went out back to check things out. What I found was very disturbing indeed:
Murder in the Hen House.
Now, at first glance, this was maybe not such a bad thing, since it brought me down to one rooster, albeit a very mean and flight-aided one. I wondered, “Did these four hens rise up against the rooster and kill him? Was that what I heard this morning? His death throes?” I mean, you should see these hens. They are HUGE! It is certainly possible that one of them could have over-powered their oppressor.
Could it have been Miss Scarlet, in the Chicken Run, with the Watermelon Rind?
Or maybe Mrs. Peacock, in the Coop, with the Wooden Perch.
Who could it be.
Who could it be…
And then, I started really looking at these hens. And I’m like “that is one big, effin’ hen.”
Wait a minute… Could that one be a rooster? Nooooo. Please no!
Yes!
No!
YES!
I know the answer, because two hours later, with one of two known roosters dead, I heard a new crow. I think it’s this one:
Oh my GOSH! Is that BLOOD on his neck?
I think it IS! This is just like CSI! If I could just zoom in and enhance it a bit, using thermal imagery technology…
I don’t think that’s barbecue sauce. But it’s odd, because I did not see any blood on Chicken Little. So I went back to check him over again. I still didn’t see any blood, but I did see this
Could it be a clue? A post-mortem fingerprint? Hidden away under his wing awaiting my detection?
It will have to be sent out for DNA analysis, of course. Until then, the two striped suspects are under surveillance. At this point in the investigation, the evidence is inconclusive, but off the record, I think we have our killer. One of these days he’ll make a mistake and I’ll be there with the cuffs.
And now, this afternoon, after studying them a bit more, I’m actually thinking that BOTH the barred rocks (the striped ones) might be fricken’ roosters! They are both ridiculously large. And upon further inspection, I notice both of them have ever-so-slight knobs where spurs should be.
Seriously. This is truly insane. Hatcheries are between 90 and 95 percent accurate at sexing chicks. And I get three roosters out five “sexed pullets” in random assorted batch?
After that epiphany, I opened the door between the two coops and figured, “go ahead, fight to the death. I care not.”
That was six hours ago and they are still voluntarily segregated. I think it is worth noting that I still haven’t gotten a single egg from these “hens.” So it would be premature to say I have — not counting the recently departed white rooster — three roosters and two hens –because who’s to say they aren’t ALL roosters? Time will tell.
Is this God’s way of telling me I should give up on raising chickens? In the last 2 years, I have had no less than NINE roosters, when my intention was to have ZERO.
How’m I doing so far?
Jeanette Schmidt says
But your sunflowers are beautiful.
Maybe you’re meant to be a peaceful vegetarian?!
Sita says
Hi, I have been reading your blog for a while now and just had to comment on this post. Hilarious! Keep up the posts, you have followers here in Australia. 🙂
Deb Zupan says
Sad and hilarious at the same time!
Nat Alea from OK (soon to be MT) says
Seriously, the rooster went at YOUR FACE???? I am scared to death of birds anyway, but REALLLLY want some chickens when we get up to MT, but you’re making me re-think the whole chicken/rooster issue. I saw plenty of signs for fresh eggs all around our town, so I think I just might go that route! Could someone “accidently” leave the door open? Maybe he’ll just fly away??? I lurv your sunflower picture.
admin says
You guys are welcome at “the farm” any time. You can go feed “the hens” and collect “the eggs”, while I sit in my rocking chair talking to my imaginary friend.
admin says
Nat: are you KIDDING ME? “Leave the door open?”
He has been 100% livin la vida loca for past 2 months! He flies out and in and up and down completely of his own volition. He hasn’t been cooped at ALL. He has escaped Death by Lola in addition to Death by Varmint. And I suppose I should also say he has escaped Death by Me, too.
He’s a survivor.
So it’s with that in mind that I think we are reluctant to do him in. I mean, chickens die when you look at them cross-eyed. this guy is a true marvel!
But yes, it is true: he did fly off the roof and at my head. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when he puffs up and flies at me from the ground. The flying is sort of slow-motion. Plus, he doesn’t have his spurs out. They are what hurt so bad.
Stay tuned. Who knows how this drama will unfold.
Michelle says
When you write your book club book, maybe it should be a mystery novel. You have a definite talent. Or apply at the Wright County Sheriff’s Department! They could use your detective intuition.
Sheila says
This is your best yet. You are a mystery writer. Keep those roosters coming. A great source for a creative writer.
Nat Alea from OK (soon to be MT) says
AACCKKKKKK. Stuff that sucker. I’m going to buy you a bee keeper hat or a fencing mask to protect that face. I do agree with everyone else, you need to write a mystery novel, maybe a kid’s book with your rooster being the detective????
weighty says
gonna send this to my mom
p. claire pertalion says
wow, haven’t been to your site in a while. this is truly a conundrum. i had a gold fish when i was a kid, that killed every other fish that ever shared the tank with it. i think 7 to 9 fish in all. i ended up donating it to my first grade teacher and that sucker lived for another 4 years. some times you just have to go with a creature’s will to survive. but when it does go, stuff the sucker.
Sharon says
What a hoot! This is such a funny story, except for the death and blood and such. I agree. You need to write a rooster and hen mystery. It would be a best seller!
Jane Slaughter says
Just read your story. FUNNY!! Oh, But if you ever need help with this kind of job; one that you and Dave would rather not — well, Glenn would be willing to do it for you. (Years back, my mom would have too!) At either your place or ours. Afterall, wouldn’t you know it -with a name like Slaughter? He helped our neighbors put some of their first flock into the freezer. I suppose we put a few of our own in the freezer too -but usually the varmits got them first. — so did the winter finally force your tough rooster inside?
Jenmenke says
Hey Jane! thanks for stopping by. I had to laugh… “Slaughter”… never thought of that before. Pretty funny, especially knowing you are on the DNR road kill call list!
As for Señor, he is alive and well with his entourage. And yes, he has given up the trees for the time being. I’m sure he’ll be back to patrolling from above once I stop locking them up at night…