Tonight I was going to rant about feed prices... but of course, after a sizzling day at work, 96 degrees outside, I have gotten home, done chores, eaten a hamburger patty that Keith fixed for me, and now can't find my notebook with the data. Humphhhffff.
Keith is suffering terribly from hay fever, perhaps the worst year since we have been married. He has gone to bed early full of Zyrtec, and I have just sat down to do this post before watching the second-to-last "The Closer" at 8. It is getting dark, and I'll run out in a minute to lock up the stragglers. This is supposed to be the hottest day of the week. I hope so, because I have taken up two of the waterers now that summer is just about officially over.
I admit it to all of you... I love roosters. Large and small, I love them all. Some I have loved more than others... and one, especially, from my old place, was a devil on foot. I had to carry a piece of wood as I entered "his" pen, to protect myself from his spurs. Yes, he should have been put down, but that was pre-Keith. I went out one morning to find him dismembered by a possum, and I can't say that I was that sorry. We have had many beautiful roosters here over the last seven years, and have given away many. RARELY does a rooster die, even by a critter, or by Lilly, or by disease. It is always my pretty girls. I have given away probably ten roosters so far this year, and right now have several I would give up to good homes. Most are bantams. We still have four of the five year olds, but, if Keith is right and we are going to have another very hrd winter... early leaf fall says so.... then we will probably lose some.
Here is Rambo, King of the Big Henhouse.... and King of the older girls, Libby, Ruby, Buffy and Birdie, a non-layer.
Pictured here with six year old Ruby, still laying.
He is the last remaining son of our first big rooster, Rambo, and was called "Baby Rambo" for a long time.
Our Golden Boy, Rambo, purebred Buff Orpington and adopted from an animal shelter!
He is the only chicken actually buried on our place, he loved to scratch with his girls down by the pond, and he is buried near where the pond was.x
I buried him.
Ratchett, putative King of the little henyard.
He is possibly purebred frizzle cochin, but I doubt it. His father, Curly, maybe weighed a pound and a half, and was almost wingless. Supposedly out of champion stock.
This is the guy I suspect of breeding the babies with the crossed beaks last spring, so won't be fathering anything else.
Bully, the last of the three Buff Brahma roosters foisted on me by a friend last Spring. They were all three big bullies, and I gave away the other two. I would give this guy away if I could, even though I have some purebred brahma hens.
Bluey, a tiny Silkie rooster with (excuse this expression) Big Balls.
This guy bosses the big cockerels around like crazy
I feel like I should say here that the Little Henyard is with the Little Henhouse, and the Big Henyard, the Big Henhouse, the original. Both flocks are mixed standard and bantam.
And last for tonight, roosters Two and Three. Four, bent around on the right, died last winter. The hen in the middle is Brownie, who was crippled, caught in the fence one cold night. She hobbled the rest of her life, and finally died of natural causes. She was very plucky, and hopped around on one leg for 3 years. One, Two, Three and Four are very small roosters, sons of Fred, our bantam Japanese white/black head. You can see the Japanese in them, and they have stamped our flock. At one time we had many black and white birds. We still have four little white hens, one with a black tail.
Tomorrow night we'll look at some of the younger roosters, just coming into their "manhood".