I had a bout of insomnia last night and then managed to fall asleep at about 4:30 this morning.  A while ago, I tentatively opened an eye and there was the Mallowman, standing by the bed, smirking.  “We’ve got trouble in chicken land,” he said.  “I was up at six, made my coffee and sat out on the back porch as first light broke through.  That’s when I heard it.  A rooster crowing.  And then he crowed again–a rather juvenile-sounding rooster, but nonetheless, a rooster.  I looked over to Fort Yolk, Home of the Mother Cluckers  [I know, my spouse is too clever by half].  That big old meanie we’ve been worried about because she was always pushing the other girls around?  She’s a ROOSTER”.  I responded with one word that I cannot print here and got up in desperate need of a bracing cup of coffee.

Almost as soon as we got the chicks in June, I noticed this one was bigger.  I wondered if it might have been born a few days before the others.  Then we both saw how she seemed more aggressive than anybody else.  Last week, we noticed one of her tail-feathers beginning to curve in a most rooster-ly fashion.  But we have seen no sign of spurs and everyone says a rooster has spurs.  My friend Pat, the chicken whisperer, and her husband Larry, came over, observed, and opined.  We concluded it was just a mighty big hen.  And we were all wrong.

Now, the question is, what the heck am I going to do with a rooster?  I asked Sherod if it was possible to neuter him.  He laughed.  We’re considering taking him to the Autauga Chicken Auction and just giving him away.  If any Lowndes or Montgomery County peep would like a beautiful Americana rooster–I’ll deliver.  If anyone further away has always wanted one, I might make the drive too.  Sherod’s idea is to let him be fully free-range when he is big enough to put the fear of God in other creatures. The problem with that plan is, a) I could not live with myself if something like a fox or a coyote got him, and b) I want to be able to let the girls out to range around for at least a couple of hours a day without fear of getting assaulted.  I am wide open to any other suggestion someone might have.  But the bottom line is this: boys are nothing but trouble, at least in the chicken coop, and I want my pretty chicken girls to have a placid country convent life.


7 thoughts on “Uh-oh

  1. Hmmmmm. You can keep him and he and the girls will get along just fine. Yes, there will be some hanky panky in the chicken house, but roosters can be cute too. They like to find great tasting goodies and they will call their hens over to eat it, for example. You can give him away to maybe someone who wants him for their flock, but they also might want him for chicken dinner. As far as being mean, I have never been attacked by a roo. Came close once, but he got the boot and never tried it again. My Rhode Island Red did attack my grandson, but I think Mr. Hawk got him. RIR are aggressive but for the most part, Americanas are not. So, do what you want. Oh by the way, this past spring, my grandsons called one of mine, the rapist rooster. This from a 13 year old.

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  3. Oh dear! I visited my sister-in-law’s coop two weeks ago and could not help but think of you and your ‘girls’

  4. I’ve just written a letter and realize I don’t have your email address! Could you please send so I can say a proper thank you for my beautiful gift from the heart?

  5. Pingback: Fall Is Upon Us! – Wednesday Festival | RevGalBlogPals

  6. About the only thing I know about chickens is they produce eggs but, my brother- and sister-in-law kept chickens and always had a rooster. He looked out for the hens by finding good food. He also “had his way” with them, all of them, daily. But there were always eggs! Collected every day, and they were delicious. He would fly at us with his spurs from time to time, which was annoying, but even the kids were adept at getting quickly out of the way. It might not be the worst thing to have a rooster strutting around.

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