The feud…
He started out a sweet ball of fluff…one in a group of twelve little chicks. It’s hard to imagine that something so small can develop an attitude, but, believe me – it’s true. I’ve tried patience – I really have. I’ve tried to resort to my belief that nurture can overcome nature, but I’ve come to the realization that only works with children – not roosters!
It was rather amusing, in the beginning, watching this little fellow grow and begin to assert his domineering spirit. He was the first to the water bowl and the first to the food bowl…and God help any baby chick who got in his tiny way. The minute he heard anyone approaching the brooder, he jumped up on top of the water container…top dog syndrome I guess.
As cute as he is in the photo at right, I can still see a glimpse of that attitude…as in “what in the world did you put me on this desk for…get me down this minute!” See what I mean?
As he grew up, his roosterness evolved. He picks on everyone…pushes them away from the food and the water. Wanders over to the perfectly innocent hen and pecks her on the head as he’s strutting by.
Aahhh…but now he’s picked on me. Big mistake, boy. I spent three hours one sunny day last week cleaning the chicken house. Jim had promised to do it for me, but a broken ankle got him out of this task! I had closed off the little door in the chicken house which led to the chicken yard, so I could clean in relative peace and keep the entry door open for air (even though I was wearing a mask, gloves and my boots). I had to listen to the rooster crow and squawk at me through their closed door for almost three hours. He was mad.
After I finished cleaning out their house, I put all fresh bedding chips and hay. It looked like a new home all over again (for the moment). I opened their little door to let them in and I headed into their chicken yard to give them fresh water. It happened in a split second – he kicked me on the leg with his spurs! It HURT and I kicked him back a few feet – as hard as I could! Forget the nurturing theory.
Earlier this week, I was out feeding them treats of bread and corn-on-the-cob. He drew a line in the sand. “Here”, he said. “You can come in three feet and not one inch more”. He puffed up the feathers around his neck, just in case I didn’t hear him. I must have stepped in one inch too many because he kicked me again…and then the coward ran. I guess he knew I’d kick him back.
I marched into the house and told my macho logger tree farmer husband to hurry up and get well. The first thing he has to do when he’s off those crutches is to take care of one mean rooster, and I’m NOT cooking him – don’t even ask me!
Posted in Life on the Tree Farm
Welcome, Dianne, to the realities of farm life!! We didn’t have chickens when I was growing up (my folks had already gotten rid of them before we kids were born), but I’ve heard my mom tell stories of her own. Her family had chickens, including some cantankerous, ornery roosters. Gathering the eggs was her job, so I’m sure she had more contact with them than her siblings did. If I were in your shoes, I’d put a contract out on that rooster, too!
Well, I can tell you one thing, Janet…all those stories your Mama told you – they’re TRUE! Jim says it’s genetics and there’s nothing we can do about it. Huh-huh…I’m doing something about this mean turkey – uh, I mean rooster!
I know, you could have a drawing and give the rooster away.
We’ve had roosters like that. One used to hide around the corner of a building and went for me to come round it and then he’d spur me. We got rid of him. Fortunately, the present batch of roosters are pretty laid back. We’ve had one we’ve kept a few years because he’s sweet, never gets stroppy, and is nice to his ladies. Wish I could send you oen of HIS sons. Nurture doesn’t seem to matter… and your husband says, it seems to be all genetics. Good luck!
Oh Lordie about the rooster, and so funny too, except the fact that he kicked you and it hurt and him running away was funny. I was scared of some of my Gramma’s roosters, but I learned to run faster lol
Is he really going to meet his demise?
I love to hear them crowing at the break of dawn. There are roosters I can hear here in the distance.
Hope you have a great week, and have your tennis shoes on! R U N
Shirley, you are so right – why didn’t I think of that?! That’s exactly what I should do! Ya think anyone would enter?
Tish, I wish you could send me a “kind” rooster, but I may have sworn off roosters for a while. I’ll just BUY the little chicks in the Spring at Coastal Farm Supply! By the way, I love your blog!
Yep, Sandy…unless there’s some divine intervention here, he is definitely meeting his demise…just as soon as Jim is off crutches! Love your blog and am looking forward to seeing more pics of Rochester! He’s a cutie!
[...] MEAN. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that the rooster and I have had an ongoing feud for quite some time. He’d started out cute enough, but his mean spirit soon overshadowed [...]