My 7-year-old grandson came to visit us on the farm last week. He learned a lot about courage and death thanks to our roosters.
We have two roosters, a beautiful red one, and a comical white one with feathers on his feet. Big Red is a true king. He protects and cares for his girls. He is the first one out of the chicken house in the morning; he approaches and confronts any creature who comes into the enclosure; he checks out any weeds or compost I throw in and lets the hens know if it is edible; he rounds up all the hens in the evening and is the last one in the house. He talks to the hens all day and doesn’t bully them. He is a great example of a leader.
Featherfoot is different. He is timid. He is always second-last out of the hen house. He is not bright and had a hard time at first figuring out how to go up the ramp into the hen house. He wandered around perplexed, even though the others kept going up and down the ramp clucking to show him the way. When he started crowing in the morning, a most ridiculous squawking sound came out but he soon got the hang of it and then kept it up non-stop all day. He also figured out how to do another roosterly thing quite well.
Ray decided it was time to separate the two roosters. He put Featherfoot in with the goats. The goats got quite a shock! They came bolting out of the goat shed and then stood staring at this strange creature. Whenever he started crowing, they started their bleating and we had a pretty noisy yard. When their astonishment died down, they seemed to get along fine, one funny looking rooster and three bouncy young wethers (neutered males).
Alas, Featherfoot is no more. When my sons came to pick up my grandson, we decided that everyone should learn where chicken meat comes from. The seven year old did not want to watch while his dad picked up the hatchet and whacked away at poor Featherfoot’s neck. Just as well, as the silly rooster would not keep his head still. We had forgotten to tell my son that someone needs to stretch out the neck to make the gruesome task easier. Anyway, the boy did watch me take off the feathers and clean out the insides. He found the different parts very interesting. He also ate the delicious meal we had at the end of the day.
The next day I asked my grandson to go and gather eggs as we had done the day before. I had forgotten that he is a lot smaller than me and Big Red is such a good protector of his girls. Big Red jumped on the boy and scared him badly and he ran screaming around with Big Red chasing him and jumping on him repeatedly. We finally rescued the frightened boy and he said he was never going back in there. My son, being a good dad, decided it was a good opportunity to instill courage into his son. He offered to buy the boy a hockey jersey of his favorite player if he would go back in. The boy said that he didn’t like hockey any more. Nothing he offered could entice him to go back and face down that rooster.
So they made a trident out of wood and painted it bright blue. We found a lid from a large pot to use as a shield. I told him never to turn his back on Big Red. Father and son went in together. Son walked up to Big Red and tried to start a confrontation. Big Red is not stupid. He could see the big man behind the small boy and he kept his distance. But we all decided that the boy had demonstrated enough courage for that day and I believe he earned the hockey jersey, which I’m sure he will get.
The only other lesson from that weekend is not to forget your son’s passport. Then you won’t have to call your mother from Seattle and pull her away from her garden to drive to a half-way point for the handover. You will get home at 8:00 pm instead of 2:00 am and your mother will have a relaxing evening rather than dodging deer on country roads and coming home exhausted at 10:30.
Well, it makes a good story and it was great to see my grandson and sons. I think my grandson will be a good farmer. He likes hanging out with goats and he got a big thrill out of digging red and purple potatoes from the ground. I sure loved having that time with him.
Love, Fern and Ray
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