In rooster news, I still have a rooster.
I posted his availability on Craigslist, but no takers. Seems roosters aren’t exactly going like hotcakes around here. (I just wrote hot potatoes, and thought, that’s not right. Bear with me.)
I’m not upset about it, because I sort of like having him. It seems right to have him. So far, anyway. I have to ask myself why and here are my thoughts on the subject.
He’s gorgeous, of course. And while he hasn’t completely made it to the top of the pecking order–the older hens still boss him around, he has a confident bearing and a sense of duty that has endeared him to me. At roosting time, he’s always the last one in the henhouse, seeming to make sure all his girls are gathered up and settled in. He gets all kinds of bent out of shape whenever I go to pick up one of the ladies. When I approach the run during the day, he’s got his eye on me, cautiously monitoring my activities. The hens are just pecking around, kicking up the dirt and leaves, but he’s watching. Always watching. I see how useful that is, particularly for free ranging birds. Roosters are the bodyguards of the chicken world.
He’s 4 1/2 months old now, and while he looks pretty much full grown, I know he’s not fully mature and his personality may change. I’ve heard a lot of stories about ill-tempered, aggressive roos and I realize the jury is still out on this one, so time will tell.
Of course, I haven’t mentioned the big subject of the crowing. He’s got his crow down pat, now. The only reason I haven’t had to get rid of him so far is because I sound-proofed the henhouse. Not completely soundproofed, but I took a bunch of decibels off by blocking the windows with four inch styrofoam and drywall and caulking with weatherproofing foam. I know. Seriously. The things we do in the suburbs to make this lifestyle work. The door is already metal-clad with double-paned glass (yay! for salvage yards). I also blacked out the door window to postpone the crowing until about 7 a.m.
I can still hear it from the house, but it sounds like it’s coming from over the hill and far away, not from the living room like before.
This all means I spent a whole day on the soundproofing and have to close them up every night and let them out every morning (previously they let themselves in and out at will). Am I going to more trouble than it’s worth for this guy?
I’m still refusing to name him. It would make it harder when I had to let him go.