We haven’t spent much time talking about our chickens here, mostly because there’s not much to say except that they are healthy and active and hilarious. Oh yeah. And LOUD. Like, 12+ roosters loud. We always knew we’d end up with at least half of our chicks growing up into roosters, and we knew that would mean that all but a couple were destined for the freezer. Well, the time is growing nigh. They are crowing, fighting, and generally terrorizing the ladies in an effort to assert their dominance. We need roosters who can protect and calm the flock, and be extra vigilant for predators. Right away, one of our guys started to stand out by waiting outside the coop every night until all the hens were in, nudging them along if they were slow. He definitely gets to stay. We named him El Capitan.
None of the other boys have really shown El Capitan’s awesome instincts, so from here we’ve decided that since we’re choosing genetics for a future flock, it’s survival of the prettiest. Sadly, this means the Turkens are out.
I think word has gotten around the coop, and everyone’s really doing their best to be impressive.
It’s a little like the Miss America Pageant meets Survivor around here.