I wonder if these two chicks survive? They completely change appearance over the months, and I don't know which these two are. Are they two of the fifteen that were given away, or who were stolen by hawk and owl? Or are they two of the three that remain in my back yard. As of yesterday, I am down to three. Did have eight, but five turned out to be roosters, with only three pullets. Sexual abuse was so severe that something had to be done.
Yesterday morning as I was deciding how to delete four of the roosters--all of whom I was much attached to--there came a good solid knocking at the front door. A man in a police uniform asked me if I had a rooster. I looked out at the pickup with a cage in back, and knew that my nine months of rooster joy was over. The fellow was quite congenial. We talked about farm life, swapped war stories, and discussed the nature of the city code. He helped me get them to a family in the country.
He told me a neighbor had called in saying he could not sleep for roosters crowing all night. I understood. I knew the officer was only doing what city code required of him. I had known for some months that the wrong person was going to hear The Boss, Shanghai, Prince, Chanticleer, and Dunkle singing harmoniously--not "close harmony"--and I would lose one element of my retirement dream. One of several reasons for getting my chickens was to hear, every day, roosters crowing. Oh well, some of us like chocolate, some like vanilla, and some don't even like ice cream at all.
Celie, Sally, and Princess. These three remain. Maybe they are pictured on this posting. Perhaps not. The fact is that their colors are richly varied. Celie is a white-penciled Sebright: white with each feather edged by a slender border of black. She looks like silver lace. Sally wears a coat of many colors, most of which I can't describe: fawn, gold, brown, cream, and on it goes. She is an Americauna and thus will soon begin laying pale green or blue eggs--Easter Eggs. Princess, the little white fluffy Cochin, the sexually abused one who has endured innumerable mountings daily by five different roosters, doesn't add much color. Maybe she is not one of those pictured above.
The other two just might be. You never know.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Mama Was a Colored Easter Egg
I wonder if these two chicks survive? They completely change appearance over the months, and I don't know which these two are. Are they two of the fifteen that were given away, or who were stolen by hawk and owl? Or are they two of the three that remain in my back yard. As of yesterday, I am down to three. Did have eight, but five turned out to be roosters, with only three pullets. Sexual abuse was so severe that something had to be done.
Yesterday morning as I was deciding how to delete four of the roosters--all of whom I was much attached to--there came a good solid knocking at the front door. A man in a police uniform asked me if I had a rooster. I looked out at the pickup with a cage in back, and knew that my nine months of rooster joy was over. The fellow was quite congenial. We talked about farm life, swapped war stories, and discussed the nature of the city code. He helped me get them to a family in the country.
He told me a neighbor had called in saying he could not sleep for roosters crowing all night. I understood. I knew the officer was only doing what city code required of him. I had known for some months that the wrong person was going to hear The Boss, Shanghai, Prince, Chanticleer, and Dunkle singing harmoniously--not "close harmony"--and I would lose one element of my retirement dream. One of several reasons for getting my chickens was to hear, every day, roosters crowing. Oh well, some of us like chocolate, some like vanilla, and some don't even like ice cream at all.
Celie, Sally, and Princess. These three remain. Maybe they are pictured on this posting. Perhaps not. The fact is that their colors are richly varied. Celie is a white-penciled Sebright: white with each feather edged by a slender border of black. She looks like silver lace. Sally wears a coat of many colors, most of which I can't describe: fawn, gold, brown, cream, and on it goes. She is an Americauna and thus will soon begin laying pale green or blue eggs--Easter Eggs. Princess, the little white fluffy Cochin, the sexually abused one who has endured innumerable mountings daily by five different roosters, doesn't add much color. Maybe she is not one of those pictured above.
The other two just might be. You never know.
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