Lesson 952 – The crow of the cock

(the video should work now, thanks for letting me know there was a problem)

At the Poultry Congress (and I swear, I’m almost ready to stop talking about it) I managed to capture some roosters crowing. In the following clip I want you to notice a few things:

  • As it is with the Grinch – the noise, the noise, the noise, noise, noise, noise! – Poultry shows are *very* loud. I actually feel sorry for the birds who must be overwhelmed by the end of the day (I know I was.) Most of them spend the night in their cages.
  • Look at the way the one in front checks me out. I knew by his behavior that he was going to crow because you can see that he viewed me as a threat.
  • Notice what’s on my feet at the end (when I had forgotten to turn off the camera) Crocs. Yup, not only are they comfortable when you’re on your feet for hours at at time, but they are made of rubber and are easily washed. Bio-security measures folks, bio-security.

***

Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com

Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.

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1 Comment

Filed under Backyard Chickens, chicken care, Chicks, Holidays, Inspiration, Life Lessons, Personal, Quotable Chicks, The Family

One response to “Lesson 952 – The crow of the cock

  1. I have sleep apnea and sleep with a CPAP machine, perhaps keeping me alive longer than my dead who died at 43. My wife has discreet, lady-like snores (while she denies snoring at all). This morning, I heard no noises at all. Was she up? I wondered. I gave a small poke (not hard as I don’t want to be killed if I wake her too abruptly). She is small, like a chickadee, but much fiercer than you might think, rather like a chickadee also. A body there. Alive? (we are both getting older). I just had my 70th birthday; she turns 67 around St Valentines Day. Eventually, she got up. She is fine.

    I went out to let the hens out. My wife does not like to start working early; she is not a “morning person,” though she did make nice healthful pancakes this morning. I went out to let the hens out, 5 Dominiques and one black sex link who has a respiratory infection but is kind of a miracle chicken who has come back from the dead half a dozen times. As the hens came out of the small hen door, I counted as I do each morning, one, two, three, four, five . . . No “Blackie.” Peering through the window I saw a black form on the floor. My goodness! Blackie died in her sleep and toppled off her perch. As I threw some oats to the other hens, I said, “Show some respect. After all after she became ill she slid from the middle of the pecking order to the bottom; you didn’t have to peck her off the perch!” They showed no interest, though one said, “I am laying an egg in her honor.” I said I hope she was dreaming a pleasant dream of chasing, shredding, and devouring a mouse as she expired.

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