We've been keeping chickens now for about five months. We brought them home when they were two weeks old, held them, pet them, and handled them a lot in hopes of having very docile chickens. And it worked. As soon as my hens see me come out in the yard, they run right up to me, clucking as if to say hello. Until the rooster comes along...
I was warned about roosters. I even had a little experience, as my husband's parents had one for a while, until it started going after Gracie. I know they can be mean, they have to be the boss, etc. But I did hope that by handling him so much when he was young, he would be more, approachable. And you have to have a rooster if you want to have chicks, which we do.
Everything was fine with the rooster until we started letting the chickens roam the yard. Everytime they came out, Caleb would charge up to them, excited to see what they were doing. Of course this scared them, and the rooster started looking suspicious. I warned Caleb, but in typical little-boy fashion, he ignored me. One fateful day, he charged up to the rooster, bent his thirty-inch frame over, and screamed, "BAWK!" right into the roosters face. That was the last straw. It fluffed its feathers, took a flying leap, and pecked Caleb on his leg, leaving a blue bruise in the shape of a beak. Caleb ran to me, I picked him up and stomped at the rooster, and it backed down. However, the incident left Caleb a marked man, and he is never safe in the yard if his winged arch nemesis is loose.
A few weeks later, Caleb decided to help me feed the chickens and put them up for the night. He was humbled by his first experience, and was keeping a respectful distance. Nevertheless, when the rooster saw him, he charged up to Caleb and started dancing a fluffing and jumping at him. Mama bear instincts were pumping through my body as I ran over and sent the rooster sailing with one swift kick. When it regained its composure, it ran for the pen, and when I stuck my head in the coop to get the water, he darted out the door, scared to death of me. "You better run sucka!" I yelled.
Things calmed down a little for a few weeks. Caleb won't go near the rooster, and I continued tending the chickens without incident. But over 4th of July weekend, I started noticing something- I was being stalked. The rooster would literally hide behind trees and poke its head around, trying to calculate my coordinates. "Oh it's like that, huh?" I would shout. "BRING IT ON". It would sneak up behind me as I was walking through the yard. It tried to be all stealthy, but it's getting fat and I could hear his feathers swish-swishing. When I turned around, it would stop and start pecking the ground, trying to act nonchalant.
Then last night, I made a mistake. I got lazy and let my guard down. I was outside, talking to Jeremiah about some stonework we just had done. He had worked late. We were both tired and I felt like I was starting to catch a cold. "Well, I better go put the chickens away," I said. I started back for the pen. I should add here that I was wearing SHORTS and FLIPFLOPS. "Here chicky chicky chickies!" I called. They all ran up to me, eager for me to tuck them into their little chicken beds. The rooster ran up beside me, leading his ladies like a pimp in Atlantic City. As we got to the pen, I crossed in front of the rooster to open the coop. That's when it happened. Behind me I heard the familiar swish-swish of feathers. As I spun around I saw the rooster was airborne, sharp talons aimed at my bare legs. "Argh!" it was like a dream where everything's in slow motion and your limbs are jello. I jumped back just in time and grabbed a stick. It came at me again, and I wacked it on the head but MY STICK BROKE! I felt claws and beak on my bare legs again and again, and I was unable to kick because of the flipflops! Everytime I stuck my leg out for a kick, it scratched me! I had no choice but to retreat. I started to walk away, but it came from behind again. I walked faster...faster... finally I broke into a run. The rooster ran too. That thing is fast. It got me again. "AAH! AAH!" I continued running, my flipflops snap-snapping in mockery. I came around the hill and saw Jeremiah by the shed. "What's wrong?!" "AAH AAH!" I managed. I ran behind him. He of course was wearing Carharrt pants and work boots. "Thunk" he kicked the rooster. "Thunk thunk". It retreated for the pen. He followed, flexing his muscles like the Incredible Hulk. "Oh yeah! who's a big man now? this is MY hen!" (??????) he threw a duck decoy at it ( the longer I write, the redneck-ier this sounds) "I'm the rooster here!" He turned to me. "You have to think like a chicken," he explained. Oh.
Jeremiah of course wanted to know why I was running from the rooster in the first place. "Isn't it obvious? SHORTS and FLIPFLOPS!" Then he told me I need to show the rooster who's boss, which I would have done, but again, SHORTS and FLIPFLOPS!
I would like all my readers to know that my daughter actually witnessed the whole attack, and was standing at the back door laughing her head off.
One often experiences great clarity after a near-death experience, and I learned several important lessons:
1) chickens do indeed have large talons
2) they run very very fast
3) I can still run surprisingly fast
4) never, ever wear SHORTS and FLIPFLOPS around a rooster
IT IS SO ON!
LOL! I wish I could have seen this!
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