I knew nothing about chickens when HA bought our box of ten chicks. I know next-to-nothing now but I’m getting smarter. The person from whom she bought the chicks said she was “pretty sure” they were all hens. Hmmmm. As I’ve said, I’m not qualified to argue, but it did raise a question for me: how could one tell?
Remarkably, all ten chicks survived being hatchlings, reached the pullet stage, didn’t get eaten by Luna the Big Dog™, survived transfer to the chicken coop, repelled a mongoose attack, and started to lay eggs.
It was obvious from size and attitude that one bird was a rooster. A second appeared rooster-like due to pretty fabulous plumage, but he didn’t strut and peck like the first one. Our neighbor S started calling them Starsky and Hutch, after the 1970’s TV series. Starsky was cock o’ the walk and strutted around the coop confidently. We credited him (without direct evidence) of killing the invading mongoose.
Shortly after the hens started laying, the Hired Hand came to me and said he was working in the coop and Starsky attacked him. I’d never seen him being aggressive, but I took it under advisement. The next day, I followed my usual routine and threw some scratch at the far end of the chicken run, then went into the coop to change water, check the food, and collect the eggs. Never has a chicken left the scratch area when there was food there, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Starsky approach. I yelled and waved my arms, usually a good way to send the chickens running, but Starsky came on. I gave him a little kick (I was wearing shorts and rubbah slippah) and noticed that he was clearly bent on attacking me. I knocked him back about three feet, but he immediately started running toward me again. This time, I planted my back foot and landed a kick squarely on his torso, sending him about twenty feet to the end of the run. I thought there was a good chance he was seriously injured, but he got up and started to run toward me again.
I was juggling a couple of eggs and didn’t even have work gloves. I didn’t want to deal with this madman so I jumped through the 4’ high door, but he came on and got his head in the door. I didn’t want to slam the door on his head (seemed likely to result in a painful injury and not a humane death) so I just let him out. He seemed stunned at being OUTSIDE so I just left and went back to the house without being followed.
I told HA about it and we decided that he’d probably just leave for greener pastures or maybe be a bit chastened and choose to re-join his flock. On the one hand, you have to give him props: he was kind of just doing his job attacking this monster who was stealing his hens’ eggs. On the other hand, attacking someone fifty times your mass who also provides you food, shelter, and water on the regular might cross the line from brave to stupid.
The next day, I took Luna for a walk, leaving through the front gate. We returned via the pasture as we often do, and there was Starsky strutting back and forth in front of the coop. Vinda, Lu, and Naan, who usually run to greet me (the walking feedbag), stayed cowering in a corner of the pasture (which is several acres) while Starsky came to attack me and Luna. I threw a good sized rock at him which drove him off long enough for us to cross the pasture to the house.
When I got to the house, HA reported that the Hand had already come by, been menaced by Starsky, and had left for armament. A few minutes later we heard the report of a shotgun, and the Hand came and informed us that the Starsky Menace had been abated. He skinned the rooster (who was a big guy!) and Luna had boiled chicken for dinner.
Egg production went up significantly, though that could have been just the maturing of more birds. I have mixed feelings about the death of Starsky. The truth is that I would have dispatched him myself had I been wearing gloves (and not juggling eggs) when he attacked me. I gather from many sources that you can’t tame a rooster who has become a fighter. We clearly could not have left him with the flock to “Keep everything in the barnyard, upset in every way” or even roaming around the pasture. Luna did enjoy her stew. But it seems somehow unjust to have killed him just because he over-zealously protected his flock.
—2p