It began as a typical day; Billy and I enjoying our coffee. We typically sit on the porch and watch our laying flock range in the field. It's a simple pleasure that we look forward to every morning. This morning, however, we were at our brooder barn. Billy was finishing up the doors-getting ready to move in our next batch of meaties. We were greeted by our "ladies" (the hens) shortly after we stepped outside. It seemed odd that they would all make their way up to us with out the incentive of strawberry greens or melon rind...but there they were. To get them back to the field, I offered them some scratch and grain. They happily wobbled along, back to their digs, gobbling up the tasty treats. That's when I noticed...Sandy, our beloved rooster, was missing. After a quick head count, I realized two hens were also missing. I later wondered if this what the hens were trying to convey to us when they came to the barn?
We've certainly had fox in the area, close neighbors have seen fishers, but we have only seen one fox on the property this year; in the spring. We attributed the lack of predators to Sammy, our wonderful, chicken-herding, watchdog-doodle. Apparently hunger overcame fear of our local predator and our flock paid the price.
I have to admit, that I (initially) never really cared for Sandy. He was one of eight chicks that we raised from Emily's class unit on embryology. Although we were hoping for hens, we ended up with seven roosters and one hen! We kept one rooster and the hen. We kept Sandy because Billy wanted a rooster (and he was the prettiest). He thought it would be "cool" to have a rooster crowing in the morning...and every farm needs a rooster, right? Well, morning starts at 4:30 A.M. for roosters, and that crowing...pretty much continues throughout the entire day! So, Billy quickly realized, that a rooster's crowing really isn't so cool!
What was cool, was that Sandy had taken ownership of the flock, and with that ownership came protection. Every day while our hens were ranging and scratching, Sandy dutifully watched over his girls, standing tall and proud, ready to defend. He would also find and share food with the hens; catching a grasshopper or beetle and presenting it with a "Here, eat this" vocalization. This is what I grew to love about Sandy. One day I was lucky enough to witness his heroics. A young fox (I believe) attempted to snatch of of our barred rock hens. Hearing her frantic squawking and screeching, Sandy ran to her aid and chased off the attacker. The hen emerged, ruffled and feathers less in spots, but alive!
Yes, he would work his girls up into a squawking banter mid-way through our first cup of coffee. Yes, he took his "roosterly liberties" (ad nauseam) with our hens, and yes, he crowed early and often, but I have to say, that I am very, very sad that our Sandy is gone. I have to think that he lost his life defending his girls during another attack.
You were a good rooster Sandy. We'll miss you.
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