Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Corruption in the coop

Ah yes, it all looks very peaceful on the farm, doesn't it? The lovely "Vizsladorable" Tristan, the setting sun, a rustic wagon wheel, a woodshed calling out for my wayward husband to fill it before winter...

Nine happy hens gathered around the feeder, dining on organic grain from Homestead Organics in Berwick, Ontario. Even Chicky the Runt seems to be getting some! (Oh she GETS SOME all right, just you wait!)

All seems peaceful, blissful, oh-so-pastoral... but is it? For just on the other side of the window, in the spacious chicken run, what do we find but...


And not just any boys, but the Cock on the Rock, Master of THEM ALL, the possibly-transvestite rooster LORD GAGA, with underling rooster Errol Flynn lurking in the background.

Yes, that's right. Our nine older hens are now integrated with seven spry young newcomers, including a trio of roosters who are all hormones, no restraint.

For reasons known only to the boys, Errol appears to be dead last in the rooster pecking order. But he is a mellow sort who seems accepting of his fate and quite happy with life in general. He is also the largest rooster, a very handsome Plymouth Barred Rock. He likes to do a little jig now and then, but mostly he's a follower. Whatever Lord Gaga and Beaker are up to, Errol's in there with them.

Speaking of Beaker...

Here he is, leading Errol down the garden path. Initially Beaker was named Phyllis Diller. Then he crowed at me repeatedly. We thought "Beaker" was the perfect name for him, given his resemblance to a certain muppet. However, recent events have led me to believe that a more appropriate name would have been the one suggested by my friend: RAMBO, with the emphasis on RAM. To think I used to call him "Kitten"!

Why "Rambo", you ask? Silly reader! Because he, ahem, RAMS every feathered female in sight!

He tried it on with Cupcake, to no avail:

"It's true. He snuck up behind me but I b*tch-slapped him across the coop! There's a reason Chicken-mommy calls him KITTEN. That dude can't even fly right!"

Which is true. Poor wee Beaker is part Silkie and lacks the proper feathers for liftoff.

Charlotte has retained her maidenhood thus far.
"I don't let that lecherous creep anywhere near me! And Lord Gaga is just as bad. And I used to think Errol Flynn was a nice boy until I saw him throw himself on Penelope. I wouldn't leave my EGGS alone with those boys, let alone my daughters!"

In fact, all six of the older black hens have thus far resisted the manly advances of Lord Gaga, Beaker and Errol Flynn. The smaller red hens (Anastasia, Yolkie and Chicky)? Not so much.

Anastasia says, "I think Lord Gaga is dreamy. Beaker's kind of cute. And Errol Flynn really whisks my omelette, if you catch my drift." Oh we do, Anastasia, we do.

Buttercup and Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, seem to be viewed by the boys more as little sisters than conquests. The young Tina Turner and Penelope frequently get some hot feathered lovin'. But the real tart of the coop?

Why, that would be the supreme runt, bottom of the pecking-order, survivor of the coyote attack CHICKY:

Even mid-moult, her tantalizing dance and come-hither stare always lure in the menfolk. She is, in short...

...a harlot. A horny, henly harlot!

Don't tell me she's not loving every minute of this! Look at the smile on her beak. That said, when Lord Gaga, Beaker and Errol are jumping her all at the same time, well, that's JUST NOT CRICKET! The boys should at least take turns. Gordon calls such threesomes "sexual assault causing featherly harm." Must be the lawyer in him.

So that's what's been going on around here. Chicken integration, chicken deflowering, chicken exploits suitable only for those over the age of 18... you never know what you'll find when you go down to the coop these days! I certainly never realized that roosters were quite so unspeakably randy. Perhaps it's a case of teenage avian hormones, or roosterly one-up manship (birdship?) I did see Lord Gaga do a special little dance for Chicky yesterday, right before he took her down like a Weeble that had lost its wobble! It was almost romantic.

To Tristan, it all seemed perfectly normal, but then he's the (neutered) dog who tries to hump Gordon at any opportunity.

Who knew chickens lived such soap-opera lives?


  1. And Errol Flynn really whisks my omelette, if you catch my drift.

    Whisks your omelette? Do you usually make fluffy omelettes, with the eggs separated and the whites beaten? Or do you make the more traditional French omelette (who has time to clarify butter)? Or do you just stick with the tried-and-true American-style omelet?

  2. Wonderful! It's As the Egg Turns! Tee hee.

  3. Ah! Who knew that conjugal intimacy among the chickens was so shameless?

  4. Oh HWB, I'll whisk anything that moves.

    Isobelle, love that: "As the Egg Turns". Perfect!

    Ahab, I have to admit, it is surprising me! We've had chickens for a bit over a year, roosters just since this summer. I had no idea... :0

  5. Anonymous2:59 pm

    so i'm thinking outcomes here ... are there going to be little chickens some time soon? and how do you tell those from the eggs that are going to all your egg consumers?

    (i think it would be an unrecoverable trauma to crack an egg open and have something in there other than what you were expecting!)

    And who knew about them roosters?! maybe there is some linguistic clue in the common term used for ...er... the male appendage...starting with 'c'

    wasn't sure whether i could use the 'p' word here. .. which made me curious about the slang terms for it so i googled 'slang terms for p---s (on the university computer no less ... that will probably come back to haunt me ... HAHAHAH ... it's all in the name of language exploration, yeah that's it)

    anyway wikisaurus has a delightfully amusing alphabetical list of alternative terms. :DD

    (and i think my word verification this time is an anagram for 'testicle'... HAHAHAHAH oh dear.)

  6. Dr. SLoth, here's how it works. We collect the eggs every day, at least twice a day. So while we may now have some fertilized eggs, if you collect 'em and stick 'em in the fridge, nothing is going to develop in time to be noticeable.

    Now, to have little chickies, we need fertilized eggs AND a broody hen willing to sit on them until they hatch. Our original hens, the Sex-Links hybrids, have had the broodiness bred out of them, but some of our new hens will probably be game, and we will let them hatch a few at some point!

    Yes, those roosters have inspired a lot of great, ahem, words...

    Love your anagram!

  7. Anonymous7:04 pm

    Ooohhhhh OK! thanks for the chicken and egg lesson. that completely makes sense.


  8. I never really thought much about the process until we had chickens. No one wants to bite into an embryo!!! (:0


Thank you for all your comments, which I love to read!