Well, just like the Who’s singing in Whoville, my rooster Corn Flakes started out his crowing with just a little morning crow inside the coop before I let them out in the morning. Then he started crowing when he was hungry, to now where he’s pretty much crowing constantly. Sunup to sundown that rooster is crowing his little lungs out.
Unfortunately for me, and for him too, that means on Sunday I’ll be carting him off to the Agway where they will take him in and sell him to anyone willing to buy a rooster. A beautiful rooster. A nice rooster. A near perfect example of the image you think of when you imagine a rooster. And I have to hope that he actually gets a home where he gets to live the life of a rooster, and not the life of the prize ingredient in a pot of coq au vin.
My neighborhood zoning regulations do not allow a crowing rooster, and I probably should have gotten rid of him last weekend, but I always tend to put these things off hoping for some crowing miracle to happen. It never does. Plus I have to be away all day tomorrow so he’s going to have to wait until Sunday. I hope a miracle happens tomorrow while I’m gone.
And continuing our pattern of ridiculously weird weather here in Connecticut, today we had torrential rain with temperatures over 50 degrees followed by fog, then clearing along with howling winds.
Most of the chickens I’ve had over the years don’t mind the rain too much, but this bunch I have now don’t seem to care for it. Today though for some reason – maybe they’re just sick of trying to avoid it — they were out in the rain quite a bit. There is nothing more pathetic looking than a wet, muddy chicken. Even Corn Flakes loses his luster when he’s wet.
The feathered feet chickens look particularly miserable when they are wet. Especially in this mud!
And speaking of mud, I’m thinking about renting out the farmyard for some mud wrestling events. It is disgusting out there!
Speak Your Mind