the tale of the dimwitted rooster

I've never been one of those parents who thinks their children are without flaws. Despite their natural born intelligence, I frequently find myself gaping with astonishment at their foolish choices. But as often as they make mistakes, I see progress. I see them growing into mature, responsible adults...and I might even live to see the day they actually reach that goal.

This is the major difference between human children and beloved pets.

My dog is like a giant toddler who will never grow beyond his three year old mentality. He knows at least a hundred words, cheese and carrots being two of his favorites, but he'll never have a job. Never move out and live on his own. Never speak more than the rudimentary vocalizations that sound a whole lot like, "Momma." But as simplistic as he is, I love my dog.

Henny Penny.jpg

My rooster is another story.

Chester A. Rooster. The name seemed to fit when we gave it to him. He was already grown when we brought him home, but we had high hopes for him, nonetheless. And truly, as roosters go, he hasn't been a bad one. He managed to fertilize the eggs that hatched in January, giving us three lovely chickens to add to our flock. But beyond that, he's the dumbest bird I've ever laid eyes on.

This crazy bird clucks like a hen. All day long. He mimics the hens in their clucking as if he's one of the girls. I'm almost embarrassed for him. If we had other roosters, he would undoubtedly be the laughingstock of the bunch. I mean, he does know how to crow, but he rarely does. And unlike the last rooster we had, he doesn't cock a doodle do at all hours of the day or night. That simple fact, and his obvious fertility, are the only things saving him from the chopping block. Now he's managed to figure out how to escape from the fenced area, but can't figure out how to get back in. He has all of the remaining chickens roosting with him outside the containment area at night, where the garden gnome/fox can get them. I only hope the fox is fooled into thinking they're all inside the fence.

I guess the moral of the story is don't kill your roosters before the replacement has been fully vetted. The last rooster had his issues, but he was a bad ass chicken that could hold his own in a fight. Not the chicken shit rooster we have now that's afraid of his own shadow, and prances around the yard Big Bird from Sesame Street.

Ah...such is life on the farm.

Until the next time...I'll be watching for missing chickens.

Copyright © 2000-2018, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
Posted on April 9, 2013 .