Roosters have been part of my life for as long as I can remember, and for the most part, I don't really have any good memories about them. When I was little and we'd go to visit Grandma and Grandpa on the farm, we'd always have to be on the look out for the two white roosters who liked to perch on the deck. If they were there, well, you'd have to go another way to get into the house because they weren't letting you get past them without attacking you. These roosters were brothers and they hated each other more than anything else. They'd fight all day long, be battered and bloody, but at the end of the day, they always perched together in the barn. Grandma and Grandpa had a long history with mean roosters...my mom can remember a rooster from her early childhood that would chase her into the house then wait outside for her to come back out. When it was time to come out, her dad would grab the rooster by the neck and promptly give it a good shake while calling it some choice names, then throw it far enough away that they could pass.
Another time at the farm, a friend of my grandparents, Ray Lapp, stopped over for a visit one day. Being an elderly man, he carried a cane and moved fairly slow, and as he got out of his car he remembered he had brought something that was in the back seat. As he opened up his door, the rooster, another one of the same genetic line I'm sure with red spots like blood, sprinted from the barn and recognizing his opportunity for attack, jumped on the back of poor old Ray. The poor old man was quite a sight as he reached behind him, hitting that old rooster with his cane as it pecked away at his back.
In my own childhood, we had the meanest rooster of all: Brooster the Rooster. He was a big mean fellow who was so vicious he would fly against the fence when you walked by. I can remember teasing him and being quite brave from my side of the fence, laughing as I ran back and forth and he slammed his body up against the fence trying to catch me for even thinking about coming near his flock. He was so mean we couldn't get in to feed the hens- we had to pour the food and water in to them through a tube. He certainly was a mean old bird. He served his purpose well, though...he protected the flock with his life one night from a raccoon attack. He lived a few days after that with his comb tore off and badly injured from the battle that had ensued. But I can guarantee the raccoon looked worse and no hens were lost!
This is life with chickens because if you have a flock of chickens, odds are you're going to have a rooster at some point. Right now, we're quite lucky to have three roosters who are pretty non-temperamental. Chickoletta, who was supposed to be a hen, is our favorite- a white and easy-going bantam cochin who even lets the kids hold him. Then there's Henry, a black bantam cochin, who is definitely the leader of the flock, a protector, but not mean to us most of the time (though he has been known to charge the children from time to time when they get a little too friendly with his hens). We have another rooster now, too- a tall, leggy silver laced Wyandotte, from our last batch of chicks that we got in spring (insert eye roll....they were supposed to all be hens!), and so far, he's been quite a nice and happy young guy who is afraid of pretty much everything.
It is my parents' rooster, who we simply call "The Black Rooster" that is our current evil rooster nemesis.
He's a black polish rooster with a wild feathered hairdo that matches his attitude. He's a great protector of his flock....from everyone and everything. These chickens are free-ranging a lot of the time, and you have to be sure to be on the lookout if this guy's out in the yard. The first attack was on my grandma one day as she stopped over to drop something off. He jumped up and bloodied her leg, but it all seemed to be a freak accident. Maybe she had somehow provoked him....but no, the beast had been awakened. From that day forward, attack after attack occurred. One on little B girl whose dad came to her rescue only to then be cornered against the garage by the evil little bird who was pecking and flying at them until one hard kick gave them enough time to escape. Next, a family friend who had stopped over to drop off something quickly- what a greeting!....then my dad as he burned garbage, my mom as she tried to get to the garage, and who knows how many UPS guys.......
The point is that he's not a friendly guy. He's a mean and vicious protector of his hens, even when there's no threat there. But, he makes for good conversation, nonetheless. It's always fun to sit and tell stories of evil roosters who attacked....other people :) When it is you they attack, it's not quite as funny. :)
Do you have a rooster story? Please share it so we can enjoy your mean roosters too :)
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