Roosty was unexpected. In 2013, a neighbor gave me a box of fertilized eggs after a fox attack that had taken several of my flock. I had a broody hen, and was wanting some more chickens. He grew to be the most handsome of roosters, gentle and calm. I never thought I wanted roosters because of their reputations, but he was an exemplary leader of the flock. If you search 'Roosty' on this blog, you will see many pictures of him and his sons throughout the years. I found him this morning laying down with his eyes shut, no trauma or distress, he looked as if he was asleep. He was 7 years old, and I walked his heavy body way out into the woods, got to study his beautiful feathers and face up close, and got to tell him thank you and how much I loved him.
Never believe anyone who says "roosters are mean". Over the years I have never had a single mean rooster, and firmly believe if they are mean, it is because they are being treated poorly, and are scared. I have known farmers who actually kick their roosters, or enter a pen with a shovel or rake, to beat the roosters and "show them who's boss". I found I loved having roosters in my flock, loved their cock-a-doodle-doos at all hours of the day and night, the way they looked after the hens, and their sheer physical beauty, enormous tail feathers blowing in the wind. We often hear that "chickens are stupid" - the opposite is true. They are sensitive, peaceable creatures, excellent parents, and the best tenants of the farm. One of my favorite memories of living here is simply sitting out back, watching the chickens peck and scratch their way around the grounds.
In these weirdest of times, the world feeling scary and unsure, the farm and animals and nature are so steady, our human strife having no bearing on their lives whatsoever. Caring for animals and living close to nature is available to all people, and is deeply enriching and healthful.
Goodbye handsome boy.
