While taking over 570 chicken photos last Monday, I caught the following startling scene on ... well, not film. On digital card, I guess. Which sounds less romantic.
Infinitely less romantic, in fact, than the Love Song of a Rooster, in the key of Beaker.
Our story unfolds thusly...
Across the grass, Beaker spies the alluring Henrietta. Keen to exercise his conjugal, if polygamous, privileges, Beaker approaches his prey, I mean, woman, while doing a little rooster dance.
Henrietta looks suitably alarmed.
"WTF!!? AGAIN?!"
Not exactly the master of subtlety, Beaker rushes in like the mad feathered bull that he is. Henrietta squawks and flaps but is unable to achieve lift-off, and so chooses to run. Poor Henrietta is never receptive to the charms of Beaker!
"You men! Don't you ever get enough?!"
"Henrietta, that's a rhetorical question, right?"
There is nothing graceful about a running chicken. I'm sure I could turn that into some kind of life metaphor were I not about to tuck into our Friday night pizza and beer...
"Henrietta, where are you going? No matter how far you run, no matter where you hide, I WILL find you and mount you when you least expect it. I know you'll slap me to the ground and beat me afterwards, but it will be worth it because I. am. ROOSTER!!!!!!"
It's hard to imagine how the hens can resist such a luscious specimen of chickenhood! But sometimes, they do.
And now for something completely different. Today was Gordon's last day as a civil servant. Now he's starting a new chapter in his life, as a lawyer in private practice. I made him his favourite pizza-from-scratch as a reward. Hope you all have a great weekend!
Oh those Roosters rarely dance for the gals so Beaker is special. Yet it does give Henrietta a chance to bolt whilst Beaker is donning his moves. Loved your post.
ReplyDeletePizza sounds very good.
Nancy, thanks for stopping by! I don't know how I managed to get three roosters who all do the courtly dance, but they do! I'd heard a lot of roosters had had that bred out of them. It's very cute, but the girls aren't always impressed. :)
ReplyDeleteI don't know how Henrietta could turn down a handsome rooster, especially one named Beaker. I believe she's playing hard-to-get. Trying to boost the excitement and all that.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness the post comment feature is now working for my lady again! She couldn't comment on many last week! She says, "Run Henrietta! Run!"
ReplyDeletehee hee
Congrats to Gordon on his 'retirement'. I'm sure things will work out for him, and it will be nice not to have to answer to the 'big guy'. Now if only poor Henrietta could feel as free!
ReplyDeleteHaha, I had to laugh at the sight of Henrietta running!
ReplyDeleteLove your caption for when Henrietta first sees Beaker advancing. Did they sit in two bathtubs afterwards, like in the Cialis commercials? :)
ReplyDelete"while doing a little rooster dance..."
ReplyDeleteHey... any chance he could teach me that?
CogDis, you are no doubt correct. They play hard to get, but those hens all give their little feather-shake of satisfaction after the deed is done. We call it a chicken orgasm! ;0)
ReplyDeleteIsobelle, Blogger has been a pain in the butt lately. And your lady is right, Henrietta needs to up her speed.
ReplyDeleteMusical Gardener, thanks! And yes, Henrietta has much to learn from Gordon. ;)
LBM, they crack me up. Those girls really do play hard to get.
TTPT, hahahahaha!! Side-by-side dust-baths, perhaps?
ANdrew, fly on over. The rooster boys could teach you a thing or two!
You know, we laugh, but if Beaker was a guy he'd be in the same situation as the head of the IMF, so I don't think I really should take any lessons from him. I'll stick to my own sly tried and tactics of sweet-talking, flowers, chocolates, cuddles... and when all that fails just pathetic pleading :) (Although I suppose a rooster dance without the subsequent forcible onslaught may be worth a try, though I expect it would end in a helpless paroxysm of laughter rather than of love. I'll try to find one on youtube and report back later.)
ReplyDeleteAnd looking again at your post's heading, I am tempted to observe Beaker's antics with my (amateur) legal eye and sing the words of that old song: "What's love got to do with it?". Perhaps Gordon could practice his new role by stating the case for Beaker's defence.
ReplyDelete"tried and tactics"? I meant "tried and tested tactics". Must've been getting over-excited as I typed. I did feel a strange urge to flap my elbows in and out and strut about in a high-knee'd walk while crowing and cock-a-doodle doodling very loud... Strange :)
ReplyDeletePriapic rooster
ReplyDeletegives in to primal urges
the girls feign horror
ANdrew and Jams, you KILL ME! Hahahaha! You're right, Beaker IS the IMF dude. Oh my, my rooster is a sexual predator. Wait. ALL roosters are sexual predators!
ReplyDeleteDid you find anything on YouTube?
I think Gordon could do a fine job of defending Beaker!
ReplyDeleteAnd Jams, that is my favourite haiku EVER. In fact, I've been meaning to do a hen haiku contest, but how on earth could anyone beat THAT? It's sublime!
I have been practising my Rooster dance actually, Knatolee, in private of course, while my unsuspecting lady is at work, but funnily enough two old ladies turned up at my door, ostensibly requesting charity donations but I think we all know what they really wanted. I fobbed them off with a small donation (of money, in case there is any misunderstanding) and will get back to my practising soon. It's the backward high-kicking steps in a sort of moonwalk mode while flapping the arms wildy, intermixed with bent arm elbow out flaps, and crowing and clucking very loudly and scratching the feet all at the same time... that are proving the most tricky bits to master; but possibly, I suspect, these will be the most effective. Anyway, I am going to give it until Saturday night before it gets a live trial, but I suppose for full scientific rigour I will have to cut out the sweet-talking, flowers, chocolates and cuddles meantime, so that the effects of different strategies don'e get mixed up... Hmmm. The lady is going to wonder what is going on when her regular bribes cease, but then at the weekend ALL will be revealed in its magnificence! What could possibly go wrong - wish me luck, and ... oh... will I have to make and fit one of those anti-scratch covers that one of your little chickees has to protect the lady from harm? That's gonna raise a bit of suspicion, isn't it? This is all more complicated than I thought.
ReplyDeleteAndrew, sorry, a bit slow in replying. Busy planting tomatoes! Anyway, I think you should have PRACTICED your dance on the little old ladies who came soliciting. I mean, soliciting for charity. En tout cas, I expect that by Saturday night Scotland time, you should have had that dance perfected. I hope to have a report back tomorrow on how things went, and whether a chicken saddle was required.
ReplyDeleteAn interesting experiment. I can report that in the human female the rooster dance induces white-faced shock, quickly followed by helpless hilarity, slowly, very slowly, followed by the desired effect some time after the dance has ceased, allowing the hilarity to subside... Sweet talking and pathetic pleading would have been quicker and more energy efficient though. Has Beaker ever tried just quietly pretending to be pleasant? Give him that tip from me.
ReplyDelete