Saturday, April 17, 2010

Hot For Roosters


Now God knows I do not want another rooster. Maybe ever. Elvis is more rooster than I need and he's the one I have and he is a gorgeous, big, strong rooster who, although he copulates more frequently and with more force than I would wish, can be a sweet husband to the sister-wives.
Whenever I offer him treats he never eats them himself but makes a low noise in his throat to call the hens and then either drops the piece of grape or whatever it is I have given him for the hens, or allows one of them to eat it from his beak.
Now that's some sweetness there. Plus, he has never shown any sort of aggression towards me or any other human and that's important because one of these days, Owen is going to be running around and I don't want Elvis running after him.

But. There are two roosters next door which I just have the hots for. I find myself walking over to the fence even without the excuse of showing the critters to Owen, simply to gaze at these roosters.
Let's face it- roosters are the Jim Dandy's of the chicken world. They have the gorgeous tail feathers, the big broad bodies, the fancy combs and wattles- they are just handsome creatures. All the roosters of all the breeds have something-something going on. They just do.

I don't know squat about chicken breeds. Let's face it- I don't know squat about chickens but I am learning and everything I have learned so far frankly amuses or amazes me. One or the other. And I never knew how much I would enjoy having them around. I did not want chickens- another thing to take care of- bah! and yet, as soon as I got them (thanks, Kathleen!) it turned out to be one of those things that you never knew you wanted but damn, you did.
How did I live this long without chickens?
And I don't even eat that many eggs. It's all just blood-bone ancient knowledge to my mind. You have chickens scratching around your yard, you have protein. It may not be rational but it sure feels right.

And here again- there is nothing rational about rooster lust. You don't NEED a rooster unless you want baby chicks. Hens are pretty fine on their own. They are gentle, funny birds who graciously and generously give us eggs and cause no problems. And I do not want chicks. I have plenty of hens and plenty of eggs and if I ever need more chickens- well- there are plenty to be had.
But I do enjoy watching the way my rooster Elvis interacts with the ladies and they seem to have a certain need to be around him. Most of them. Not all of them. He struts around with his harem and finds treats for them and it's amusing as all get-out to me. And like I said, he's a fine looking rooster.

Here he is with the lagniappe of having one of the next-door silkie chickens in the background. One of those chickens who looks like it was invented by Dr. Seuss and who perhaps had a poodle as a sire.

Yes. That is a full-grown hen hiding behind that fence post. I have no desire whatsoever to raise that sort of chicken. I want my chickens to look like chickens. I don't want people to stand around, scratch their chins and say, "What the HELL is that?"
No.

But they have a lot of different breeds next door and whatever these roosters are- well- they tug at my heart.

Here's one of them. He's my second-favorite although he is fancier than my favorite.

This picture does not do him justice. His tail-feathers are a mixture of iridescent green and black and he's simply a fine and fancy rooster. He knows it too.

But no, he's not my favorite. Here's that rooster:

Would you look at that neck? He's not fat, this man bird. He's rather on the thin side, actually. But something about the drape of his cloak, the stretch of his neck- they do something for me that makes me wonder if I was a hen in my last lifetime. He's sort of like Brad Pitt, maybe. Not too tall, not too bulky, the hair's nothing to write home about but Lord, there is just something about him.
This guy has colors. Greens and purples and blues and reds and oranges. Again, the picture does not do him justice. And he knows he's the cock of the walk. The ruler of the roost. He spends a great deal of time up on the tin roof of one of the sheds, crowing mightily, thrusting that fine head forward on that long stretch of neck.

He's just...gorgeous. He reminds me of a rooster you might see in a house-flock in Mexico. Or Africa. Perhaps that's it- he looks exotic to me. Maybe, in fact, he's more of a Johnny Depp than he is a Brad Pitt.

And maybe I'm just crazy.
Yeah. Crazy about my chickens.

And the truth is- I wouldn't trade my little Miss Betty

for ten roosters like the one I lust after.

But I'll tell you this- I'd trade Elvis for that bad boy in a heartbeat.

Which is ridiculous. I can go look at both those pretty roosters any time I want.

I'm telling you- there is nothing about chicken-raising which seems logical to me. But it all seems like what I'm supposed to be doing. And if I get the hots for the roosters next door, well, I'm not about to try and figure it out or beat myself up about it. It's just the way it is.

Here's one more picture. I went over to try and get a better picture of the hot roosters and there was Elvis, scratching on our side of the fence and El Nino Mas Lindo (I'm sorry- I don't know Spanish- I made that up) on the other side.

And of course the silkie's there too. I couldn't tell you whether her butt or her face is showing. I can't tell the difference half the time. I guess as long as the chicken can tell, that's all that matters.

Okay. I've already been to a plant sale today and am going to go hear music in Monticello this afternoon with HoneyLuna and Mr. Moon if he ever gets back from the island (unexpected plumbing leaks kept him there last night) and I'm going to get to see my Lizzie! Yay! Full day and I need to get some of those plants in the ground. So I better get busy. You know how much I love to dig in the dirt. And these days, wherever I'm digging, there are chickens right beside me, curious to know what I'm doing, and showing me how dirt-digging is really done.

Which, for no reason I can fathom on this earth, makes me incredibly happy.

Logic has very little to do with my life which is fine. I'm just going with it and the older I get, the less I give a shit. I do what makes me happy and I like what I like. And I lust after what I lust after. The roosters next door, for example.

I think it's time for Mr. Moon to get home from the island.

22 comments:

  1. Oh, I'd have rooster lust too, that is a fine specimen. I love the iridescent tail too. Growing up in the hotbed of commercial chicken farming, I've always been partial to anything other than the generic white Perdue chicken. We had Bantams in our yard for a while but they were very hard to keep contained, the tiny biddies walked right through the chicken wire! Your neighbor's chicken looks like a fighting Blue Hen, woo hoo for Delaware! Personally, I think Elvis is fabulous, his tail feathers are amazing! Have a fun day filled with music and plants and chickens!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well those are some pretty fine looking roosters, but I think Elvis is my favorite! It could be a case of the roosters always look better on the other side of the fence maybe? At any rate, there's certainly no harm in admiring them. Enjoy your day!

    ReplyDelete
  3. He looks like a airytale storybook rooster!

    Of course we do say cocks over here...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Did you get that book yet??

    Have a good day--I like your favorite rooster too!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Your rooster lust makes perfect sense to me. Those are gorgeous beasts!
    But I love that Elvis feeds his ladies. Wouldn't trade that for anything.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hens, roosters oh my, oh my! I never thought we would have chickens till my Love decided we must have them. I guess I could do a post of our ladies and their home....We certainly have gone through some casualties from the awful varmits in the hills around us. I feel awful that we could not protect them even though we thought we were. I swear we need electric fencing, flashing lights and sirens to keep wiley coyote and the masked raccoons away. To smart...anyway your rooster is a dandy man and your neighbors dudes, well they are quite the gents too! I can see why you think of them the way you do...I don't mind the scratching but the dust baths ours create in my garden beds can be annoying...I don't miss our rooster at all! Good riddance! So I will enjoy your rooster photos and oohh and ahhh over them...yes, your favorite is quite the catch!

    ReplyDelete
  7. The second-favorite is awfully stuck-up. I think he's like Peter Jennings, while your Elvis is more Dan Rather.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Dang! I thought that was you at Goodwood this morning. I almost said "hey, I read your fabulous blog" but then, if it hadn't been you, the woman would have thought I was some sort of crazy blogger-stalker. I look forward to that sale (and the one in the fall) all year.

    Hope you have a great day.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I can not get enough of your chickens. Or your life. Or your writing. Those roosters are indeed very handsome. And so very male.

    Someday, hopefully soon, I will have Chickens Of My Own. Then I will email you for specific chicken-raising advice.

    In the meantime, I have one question. How do you keep them home? Do they respect not-too-high fences?

    ReplyDelete
  10. Really Ms Moon, if I could, I'd forbid you to get another rooster!!

    I don't think the hens could take all the sex, and besides, Elvis is the king baby! He is so awesome! He follows Harley and me all over the yard, eats gentler than the hens out of Harley's hand and races WITH him across the yard like a dog would! Also, it's funny to watch him run! He has a big and sweet personality and that goes a long way.

    I'm going on record as being pro Elvis! Oh btw, we fed the little hen under the van yesterday. She seemed happy to see us. She's very sweet too, although I forget her name.

    Love those fethery babies of yers,
    xo pf

    ReplyDelete
  11. Love the title of your post, hot for roosters. So awesome. And I thought I knew your rooster was named Elvis but I guess it didn't register. Anyway I love the name. Musical tastes definitely influenced by that man because my Mom listened to him a lot and I am very fond of the name. Baby Shife also got named Elvis. Almost. Also thank you for your most recent comments on my blog.

    ReplyDelete
  12. I have to say that those are some impressive roosters. Elvis looks like one from a French painting. I remember my grandmother chopping the head off a chicken. It made me realize that I didn't want to raise chickens. I am glad that you harvest eggs. I won't ask about harvesting the chickens.

    ReplyDelete
  13. I don't blame you. they are quite studly.
    I love your fake Spanish. Thanks for the pics and sharing.
    Hope Mr Moon comes back soon too!
    ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  14. Love all the news about the doin's in the chicken yard. Elvis is the most endearing cock I've heard about in a long time =o).

    My neighbor Ren and I went to a couple of local plant sales here in CA today, too, and picked up penstemons, flowering oregano, a new type of hardy geranium (they naturalize really well in my yard), tomatoes...Tis the season. Kisses to you and the chickens, too. x0 N2

    ReplyDelete
  15. That rooster you fancy reminds me of Mr. moon, tall and regal and dignified.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Mel- Fighting blue, huh? Maybe? I think the Bantam hens are so cute. Maybe one day we'll try those.

    Lois- And admire them I do!

    Jo- Well, we say cocks too but then we giggle.

    SJ- No. Not yet. I spent my book money on that novel.

    Grasshopper- I know. He is my rooster and I can just go look at the other ones and all will be fine.

    Ellen- My babies dustbath under a shed, so that works out well. The critters haven't gotten any of my hens yet. I hope they never do but it does seem somewhat inevitable.

    Nancy C- Ha! Could be.

    Jucie- You should have said hello! The overalls didn't give me away?

    Amna- Chickens are not wandering animals by nature. If you keep them enclosed for a while and then let them out, they will tuck themselves back up in their roost every night.

    Ms. Fleur- I know. Elvis is a keeper. I'm not going to replace OR supplant him. I love that Harley loves my chickens.

    Mr. Shife- I mean everything I say on your blog.

    Syd-Well, if you go back in the posts a few months, you will see where we did eat a rooster. He needed eating.

    Bethany- He's HOME!

    N2- We were doing the same thing!
    Enjoy your planting.

    Angie- And that's how I like 'em!

    ReplyDelete
  17. Oh, good Lord. You are the best.

    ReplyDelete
  18. You posted about cocks and then you went to shop at Goodwood?

    Shakes head*

    Yeah, we giggle too...

    ReplyDelete
  19. connie may fowler may channel houses with character but gurrrlll..(spoken warm in the mouth with three syllables)
    i'm gunnna hang in the yard of that house with the woman who knows personally the art of rooster seduction.

    amen.

    ReplyDelete
  20. I'm pretty sure it's all your fault (not a bad thing by the way!) that I want at least 2 chickens in my back yard. I'm just worried our neighbors would revolt.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Elizabeth- At rooster lust?

    Jo- Believe it or not, I have never thought of "Goodwood" in that way. Huh. Now that you mention it though...

    rebecca- It could happen.

    Rebecca- If you had only a few hens, I do not see why anyone would have to even know.

    ReplyDelete
  22. I think Elvis is a better looking specimen than the next-door roosters. Elvis is a hunk a hunk a man.

    Laugh.

    ReplyDelete

Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.