Egghead
Our original plan, when we got our chicks last spring, was to have three or four. We thought four would be good, one for each member of the family to name. But at the feedstore that day we were overwhelmed with excitement and also the realization that these tiny three-day-olds were so fragile and one or two may not make it. So we got five, joking, unfunnily, that the fifth one would be called “Insurance.” All five grew up to be beautiful chickens and it turned out that four were pullets (young hens) and one a cockeral (young rooster). Despite the near constant crowing once that boy hit puberty, we were proud of him.
We would have given him away but he was L’s chick, the one she named for herself and so like a boy named Sue, he was our roo named L and it was funny and we kept him. Then one recent day, things went awry. Dan went in to get something from the chicken run and the rooster attacked him. I was watching and there was nothing I could do to help and I laughed in that horrible nervous way like when you see a kid wreck hard on their bike and you know you shouldn’t laugh because it is not funny at all. It was not funny at all. But, Dan hardly ever had need to be in the coop so we thought we would just see what happened.
What happened was that damn bird attacked me two days later. I don’t remember what I was doing, probably feeding the bastard and he just suddenly was on me. Sortof wrapped around my leg and pecking and scratching and thank god I had long pants on and he followed me out of the run into the yard. The dog looked on greedily but also stood back. I put a chair between the rooster and myself and that pissed him off even more. I tried to corral him back inside the gate but he was angry and just kept coming at me. I kept thinking of the Junie B. Jones book that L loves that talks about mean roosters pecking peoples heads to nubs and that is why farmers always wear hats. Or maybe I thought of that later, when I was safely inside the house and the rooster back with his flock inside the run.
We decided, that night, the roo had to go. It wasn’t safe: he usually loved me and if he was attacking me it wasn’t a good sign. Plus, now I was scared of him and that sucked. We put an ad on Craigslist and broke the news to L. She wailed and keened for days like an Irish mourner (which in fact she sort of was). She loved him and her heart was breaking she told us and for days and days she devised ways to keep him but in the end a nice couple with a couple of acres and hens with no rooster came and got him and I’ll be damned if that sucker didn’t just let that guys grab him and shove him in a box with no protest. It was meant to be.
The heartache continues and there are some tears from time to time but as much as we miss him, the chickens and three of the four humans are much happier and safer. And, as if to thank us for getting rid of that horny guy, I found the first eggs today.
EGGS! What we have been waiting for. I had stopped obsessively checking for eggs, thought it would never happen and today there were four, FOUR beauties out there waiting for me, tiny and bluish-green (greenish-blue?) It is amazing and lovely and I cannot stop smiling today.
Here are some other things making me happy right now (a purse I hand sewed for L’s friend;a thrift shop sweater; homemade gingerbread; President Elect Obama).
What is making you smile today?
