SILENT MORNING

.  .  .  .  .  continued from the previous post: THE GREAT ESCAPE

Every night, I locked Roosterman into Lucy's old coop so that at dawn he could crow his little head off without waking the whole neighborhood.  Each morning I'd let him out, so he could crow all day.  

But this morning was strangely silent.

Roosterman was gone.

The predator had been swift and efficient-- 

Marky and I found no blood, no body parts... only a few orange feathers on the ground in front of his little coop.

  

I think it must have been a fox or a fisher cat that took him.

  

I regret that I didn't provide sufficiently for Roosterman's safety.

I had tried to get him into his coop yesterday evening but he wouldn't go without a fight, so I left him out in the yard in his little mobile cage.  I was going to return and put him in the coop at bedtime, because in darkness I could pick him up without much of a struggle. 

But I forgot, and left him out. 

I do, however, think this was the best ending I could have hoped for him.  I feel it would be an honor for his body to fill the bellies of a litter of fox kits.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  

Roosterman had a rich life spanning four lovely seasons.

He hatched last year in the warm summer. 

Lucy raised him and adored him.

He grew quickly, but remained quite the 'mama's boy'.

You could tell the weather by him:

He stood proud in the sun, and stood tall in the rain.

He was a manly-man, as roosters tend to be.

Very handsome, and chivalrous.

His singing voice was ear-splitting. 

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  

In recent months, he started to peck the living daylights out of me.  

Not because he was evil --

but because the hens considered me their rooster and protector.  This deeply offended Roosterman's totally macho manliness.


I understood, and I tolerated the abuse.

Roosterman never let down his guard.  He was a serious fella, with a mission to protect and win the love and attention of the ladies. He would have fought to the death for them, and they truly adored him.  I understand now why the rooster is a symbol of courage, virility and respect in so many cultures.

Roosterman was a heck of a lot of trouble, and my memories of him will not all be fond... 


But .... the silence in our yard today

is deafening.


.  .  .  .  next blog post: GASP

ROOSTERMAN

CONTINUED FROM THE PREVIOUS POST:  LESSONS

As chickie grew 

Lucy shrank.

She spent more time feeding her little guy than feeding herself. 

Her face and comb turned grey.

She went into a molt. Everywhere Lucy went she left a trail of feathers. She lost her entire tail.

Sometimes chickie was reluctant to give up his chickiehood.

That was fine with Lucy.

She adored her little man.

(that's my coffee, not theirs)

He became a fancy, handsome, proud little man.

Lucy changed, too -- her feathers grew back, and so did her health.

For a year, Lucy had been living in her little "special-needs" coop. Her feet had been too mangled to get up the ladder in the big coop, and Lil'White had brutally ostracized her.   But she was now the proud mother and ally of Roosterman, and somehow that changed everything.  

One day while everyone was out and about in the yard,  Lucy walked through the open doorway of the big coop, managed to climb that ladder, and laid an egg in the nesting box.   Lucy was back in the flock, back in position number two.   

That night, Lucy fearlessly roosted with Hatsy and Lil'White, and it was a beautiful thing.

Little Roosterman, however, did not fit in so seamlessly.

Hatsy kept him on his toes.

He moved into the big coop with his mom, but was so terrorized by Hatsy that I had to build him a roost all his own, high up where he couldn't get plucked by her.

Little Roosterman also had some trouble learning dog-etiquette.  

Never stare at an angry dog.

That's really just a basic thing,

but Roosterman didn't get it.

He was also a little too virile and enthusiastic about the ladies.

Once again, that little wire cage I made turned out to be just the right thing.  

Everyone adored Roosterman when he was kept at bay.

Now... There was just one problem...

Roosterman  found his voice.

Next post:    CHICKENS AND A TERRIER