Love in the Air
This is a story about a bird. Bird stories must ordinarily be epic, full of bloody battles, terrible losses, great loves, and equal parts of joy and tears. This has all that, too, but never fear, it also has a happy ending.
Tarzan the Tree Rooster was living in Takoma Park. He was fed every day by a man who also fed the feral cats. Being an opportunist and not in the least stupid, Tarzan got down there right with the cats and chowed down. He hung out in the local playground, claiming the little castle as his own domain. Every evening he'd look both ways, cross the road, and hop up into his tree for the night. Life was not bad, all things considered. Then two other roosters horned in on the act, and the inevitable happened: someone got annoyed and called animal control.
The three boys came to live here and life was good again, for a while. Alas, the phrase "pecking order" did not come out of nowhere; Jim Bob, a Rhode Island Red and the largest of the roosters began vying for top chicken. Billy Bob, a diminutive Red eventually succumbed; bloodied many times by Jim Bob's brutal attacks, he one day simply disappeared. That left Tarzan to face Jim Bob on his own. It was touch and go for a while, and Jim Bob slowly claimed his domain over.... well, nothing. There was nothing to claim, except the ability to beat the crap out of Tarzan. Poor Tarzan actually spent 3 weeks in my office last winter after having one too many unsuccessful rumbles with Jim Bob. I made an executive decision last spring, and acquired some hens from a lady who was looking to rehome some of hers. The dance to charm and "own" these girls began. Daily the boys concentrated on preening themselves, chasing the girls, strutting around and crowing - doing everything any basic manly man would do when faced with hot chicks.
I watched with fascination as Jim Bob, red and orange with irridescent green tail feathers unequivocally claimed the two Araucana girls (with their gorgeous orange and black and brown feathers and hawk-like faces), and Tarzan, a white rooster himself, seemed to go more for the white and black Silver-spangled Hamburg girls, settling down next to them at night (can chickens see color?). And then the chicken barn (the "Mini Me barn") arrived. Unsuccessful in fundraising to purchase this necessary building, I delved into the farm's home equity so that the "chooks" would be able to keep their toes warm this winter. And they promptly rejected it. The turkeys were happy to go in, and Tarzan, who has always been buddies with the tom turkeys Mr. Bill and Herman, also consented to use the expensive building to sleep; he flew up to the cross beam and rested there, all alone, two bald-headed coots snoring below him. The other ingrates, the "in crowd", continued nesting up in the trees at night. And then the most magical thing happened.
Now, I'm going to make a wild guess here that most people don't really have a full appreciation for the poetry of the romance of chickens. It's indeed true that birds are randy creatures, but as the saying goes, sex has nothing to do with love. When they fall in love, it is permanent, and it is deep, and when a mate dies, they grieve intensely. I know, it sounds weird, and maybe you have to see it to believe it, but its purity and simplicity puts our human bonding rather to shame. But I digress -- you are wondering what is the magical thing that happened, right? You see, one evening I went in to close up and found Dandy (one of the Hamburg girls, quite honestly the ugliest of the bunch), cuddled up right next to Tarzan on his perch. I was happy for him (having secretly been rooting for him all along) ... but would it last?. It did! Every night after that, the two love birds flew up to their perch in the rafters (ignoring, of course, the fancy roosts we custom installed for them), and sweetly cuddled up against each other. And then one night.... Chiquita was up there too. And then Emmy. All of a sudden, Tarzan was a hit with the girls, and every night he had his choice of who would keep his right side and who would keep his left side warm. It really doesn't get much better than that (though for the record, Dandy is still his main girl).
After a great deal of hustling and cajoling I've managed to persuade the whole bunch that being indoors when it's snowing out is a much better idea, and now every night they all gather in the Mini Me Barn. Tonight, when I went in, all the girls were up with Tarzan.... and tough old Jim Bob was left on the lower roost, all by himself, listening to the turkeys snore. I'm very fond of Jim Bob, but I'm equally glad if he learns some humility (and loses some machismo) from all of this.
'til next time,
Farmer Anne
Star Gazing Farm
http://www.stargazingfarm.org
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