What we hoped would not happen happened this morning in the courtyard.
He–and that’s what we were fearing, it’s a HE–let out a loud noise that was unmistakably a first attempt at a cockerel’s clarion call.
But like all first rehearsals, it lacked clarity and confidence.
However it showed (unfortunately) palpable promise—which means, Houston–we have a problem!
Three little chicks were sold with the vendor’s assurance they would grow into delightful small hens, clucking their way quietly through life, eating the slugs and bugs and contributing to the general well being of the household.
Well they have grown and they are delightful–but one is plainly a cockerel.
“So what’s the problem?” you may be thinking–cockerels have a right to live too!
The problem is the Henri factor.
We once had a rooster called Henri. He was a handsome fellow.
He knew he was good looking. The three bantams were his harem. The courtyard was his domain and he ruled it ruthlessly.
Any creature–humans not excluded–who crossed it while Henri was in residence was in danger of attack.
He would draw himself up to his full nine inches and launch himself on a diagonal run across the yard letting out a terrifying screech.
We decided Henri had to go and he was taken back to her small-holding by our neighbor Flo, whose gift the four had been to us.
He lived there with his new harem–seven full size hens–for a year or two until he disappeared one day, finally, we assumed, meeting his match–a hungry fox.
So far our unnamed cock is not showing the same domineering signs as Henri–he’s twice the size so may not feel the need. But can we support the early morning wake-up call that was given a first run out this morning?
We’ll have to wait and see.
One things certain though; Whatshisname will not finish up in a pot as cock au vin–we’d have no appetite for that!
Oh I love it! I know exactly what you’re saying I have had chickens (laying Hens) for 20 years and every one in awhile a lttle rooster sneaks into the mix and before we know it things get pretty crazy! I’ve never had to “put one in the pot” But if I had to I know I could, but mostly they are pets and make my life much richer and busier, with taking care of my girls.
Thank you Robin and all
hello there
we know the feeling!!!!!!!!!!!!! We have kept hens for years, not for eggs, for their character and company, but occasionally we somehow got a cockerel -even one dumped on us once! Nothing but nothing keeps them quiet in the morning. We tried covering them, keeping them in the dark, to no avail. One small consolation, bigger cockerils are less pushy than bantams. Good luck
Love your blog! Big fan of your writings and musings.
John in New Jersey, USA
LOL!! I am sitting here at work eating a delicious chicken lunch (sorry) and laughing. I have never seen such beautiful chickens. I guess I have only seen the regular white ones. Their markings are gorgeous. I suggest the name “Claude” for your boy. That is very French, and it was the name of my most beloved furball polydactyl cat who died over a year ago. Now you will have to wake up every morning at 5 am! You don’t need the sleep! LOL! Question- how do you keep your cats, especially that little scallywag, Beau- from terrorizing the chickens? My Claude would have had a field day.
Hopefully the new cockerel will have better manners than Henri.
Claude will do–thank you!
Aar! Now there’s a man who don’t know how to card his fowl see (all said in a West Country accent)
Ummh…?
Carding Robin. You take a piece of white card and stick it under the neck feathers of the young birds in a way that allows you to examine the shape of the feathers. If the tips of the feathers are generally round, the bird is female. If they are pointed, it is a male. It’s a system that seems to work here in Angola but I learnt the trick in Cornwall. Hence my feeble reference to a West Country accent.
Hello Robin, When I was six we had at home this problem when we lived at Brasschaat. We had several hens but there was also 5 cocks, they where sold to us a s Hens in Holland.The neigborhood was awake at 04.00h in the morning so we had to do the wicked (those cocks attacked me) away so the hens had also some peace.To whole neigborhood had eggs of the hens, we only a few, lol.
Oh my! I’m actually glad to know that I am not the only one who has been fooled by a chicken seller’s assurances of ” all hens here!” One such trusting jaunt to the local feed store yielded five out of five rowdy roosters. We always kept one to protect his women, though; our favorite was Stephen, a boisterous and angry parcel of hell in a feather-clad package. No deliveryman, door-to-door solicitor or sneaky opossum was safe! Best of luck with your flock, and may all your future hatchlings be of the lady-bird variety!
Robin, thanks for filling us in on the travails at St. Martin de Dauzats. Nope, roosters and peacocks and their 6 am calls, been there, done that. Gets old real quick. I vote whats-his-name off the island — by any means necessary!
Steven
I can empathize with that too, Robin. Had a bantie rooster stick his 4″ spurs in my legs once. He actually did end up in the freezer after terrorizing the barn for a year. And my last rooster would crow all night long……all year.
We, too, have kept hens for years, and have had the nasty shock of hearing a ‘hen’ start that distinctive juvenile attempt at crowing and realising we have a cockerel. We keep hens for their company and character, not for eggs and, as we are veggies, not for meat. We love the way they stroll round the garden in twos and threes chatting to each other, and how they will join you when you appear, including you in their conversation. They are such good company. One consolation, Robin, is the smaller the cockerel, the more aggressive they are, so hopefully your bigger ‘whatisname’ may be more a bit more amenable than Henri! Good luck!.
Hey, Robin likes Claude! You all may find this interesting. I have developed extremely bad knee arthiritis. I need to have my knees replaced (heredity from a grandmother..she was in a wheel chair so I ‘m lucky) Anyway, until I can get this done I am getting shots of something called Synvisc. It mimics the fluid in the knee cap when there is bone on bone. It takes about a month to work. The shots are expensive even for copays with insurance 160 bucks each and you can get a shot every six months. My orthopedic Doc told me that the Synvisc (and this is a relatively NEW invention) was made of ROOSTER COMBS! Weird isn’t it? I mean who decided to try rooster combs in this forumla to mimic synovial fluid? Tell Claude to behave himself..there are lots of uses for his body parts……
Oh Robin, the trials and tribulations of a gentleman farmer. I am eagerly awaiting your next wake-up call…Yours,
Sheila
When we had chickens, we had a rooster with Henri’s attitude. We called him Guido.
Oh, dear!
Dear Robin and Meredith you seem to have a shade of a problem in your peaceful surroundings. You have a choice to turn a deaf ear or to enjoy your feathered “Benjamino Gigli’s” solo arias so early in the morning…
According to my vet’s musings we, human beings, cough when our throats get “ticklish” with a profusion of “pardon me” or “excuse me”. Changing night or early morning air “tickles” bird’s sensitive throat and he crows in the highest octave not realizing he wakes up and offends many people…
Lovin’ the funky chicken stories!!!
Oh Robin, you wouldn’t make a farmer!!
Love your post – we once had a rooster called Henry. He was a picture book specimen, until an unfortunate accident lost him one eye. Our hens, always kept for 9 months only, for maximum laying (freeranging though), always ended up in the pot.
I think you should put a gagging order on Claude(?)!
Here’s hoping you don’t get “clawed”! If you catch my drift! 🙂
If you haven’t named him yet, how about a name suggestion? I thought perhaps ” Dewey,” because he crows with the morning dew and was unexpectedly a male and I think( but reserve the right to be wrong,) I think the french word of unexpected is “Inattendue.” Just a thought. By the way, I loved your story about Henri.
Oh how I wish there was an edit function. What I meant to write was “I think the French word for unexpected is “inattendue.”
me again.I just had to tell you about the tiny bantam cockerel dumped outside our smallholding. He was all white and really strutted his stuff, so we called him Freddie after Mr Mercury. He lived happily with his harem of 20 full size hens for about 2 years, then he died a hero’s death. A fox got into the garden, had a hen in his mouth, Freddie attacked, the fox dropped then hen, found dazed, wet and with a few feathers short, and the fox took off with Freddie. We hadn’t wanted a cockerel, but I missed him a lot. All perfectly true. Hope Claude proves a hero, too.
Lovely–I hope Henri would have done the same.
With a rooster you can have fertile hatch-able eggs and supply your own chickens for eggs and meat. You’ll need an incubator unless you are lucky enough to get a broody hen who will sit on a nest. Or if you prefer not to increase your own flock, you can sell some pullets 😉 back to that vendor!
Good thinking!
At least chickens are less prolific than mice. I once had two girl mice as pets. Coco turned out to be a boy mouse and the happy couple were soon joined by five little mice: Brad Pitt Mouse, Demi Moore Mouse, David Duchovny Mouse, Antonio Banderas Mouse and Johnny Depp Mouse. Their genders were established after naming and Johnny Depp Mouse turned out to be a girl and Demi Moore Mouse turned out to be a boy. If mice crowed, there could have been a Mick Jagger Mouse.
You could always keep a bottle of red wine in the coop as a disincentive to waking up too early.
we’ll try it!