Sunday, April 6, 2008

Better Hair Than Me

He was hatched on a Tuesday three years ago this coming summer.  We named him Tuesday because we had no idea what sex he was at the time.  My kids were suggesting chick sort of names (Fluffy, Cutie Pie, Fuzzy) and I didn't think any self respecting chicken could live down a name like Fluffy.  Tuesday it was.  It could go either way as far as the sex of the chicken. 
Only two chicks hatched. Under the watchful eye of their mother hen, Rosie, they grew to be fine young chickens---scratching for bugs, chasing grasshoppers, bathing in dirt holes, and coming when they were called.  Unfortunately, they turned out to both be roos (of course!).   He and brother, Napoleon, went from cute chicks to brawling brothers in a matter of days.  Sadly, they picked a day when I was away all day to fight it out.  I came home to a bloody mess and two nearly dead roosters.  I put Napoleon down the next morning when it became apparent that his wounds were going to get the best of him.  How anyone could find cock fighting appealing is beyond me, but that's a subject for another day.

Tuesday was allowed to heal and stay.  He quickly took over his role as big man on campus and began his duties as guardian, lover, and snack finder for the hens.  Thankfully, one thing he didn't do was turn into flying ninja rooster from the underworld.  The most he's ever done to anyone in our family is peck the back of my hand a few times.  I just scoop him up and give him forced affection.  That puts him right back in his place and irritates the begeebees out him.  

Does he crow a lot? Yes. Does he only crow once at dawn?  Hahahahahahahaha!!  In order to keep the peace with my long suffering husband, Tuesday gets put up at night so none of us can hear his crowing at 5am.  I put the coop dangerously close to the house (about 15' from our bedroom window), so I could hear if there was ever a ruckus in the middle of the night.  That was before we had Tuesday.

Aside from being a pretty calm and dutiful rooster, he is just beautiful.  Yes, I'll toot his horn for him.  I always thought he was a mutt rooster.  I got a bunch of fertile eggs to put under one of my broody hens and he's what we got.  I posted his picture on a chicken website and was told he was most definitely part (get ready...) Golden Duckwing Old English Game Bird.  Uh, yea. He's also part some sort of chicken that has leg warmers---feathers all down his legs onto his feet.  Whatever he is, he's a great boy that earns his keep.  My dear husband might not agree, but I think he's jealous of how I dote on Tuesday---just kidding honey.  He's very vain (the rooster, not Lee) and keeps his feathers meticulously clean.  When those golden hackle feathers are perfect, it almost looks as though he has delicious blonde hair.  So, maybe it's me that's jealous of his good looks?? Who knows, he's not sharing his styling secrets with anyone. I just want to know who his colorist is.

1 comment:

  1. Well, he may not be a pure-bred roo, but he sure is show quality! He's GORGEOUS!
    What a terrific story to go along, too.