Dick Head Roosters

This is Frank, the beautiful jerk rooster

When one of my new hens started crowing, really cock a doodle dooing, in the morning.

I was upset. "You're supposed to be a girl, a hen, stop doing that," I yelled. My lectures didn't work.

I knew Lovie the Hen had to go, Lovie was a boy and her new name was Frank.

I only wanted hens because I wanted eggs. I didn't want a rooster and fertilized eggs. That would be disgusting.

A friend,, with a farm, took Frank the rooster and I was happy.

But my hens were obviously miserable. They looked nervous and sad all the time. despite the fact they were free range chickens, For some reason, they didn't want to explore anymore. They stayed hidden under the deck or big bushes and became broody.( I know things about chickens now and broody means they wanted to stay in their coop all the time because they wanted to hatch an egg and have babies.) They didn't wander, they didn't run to greet me when I came home from work. My hens were depressed.

After two months of watching and worring about my broody hens, I brought Frank back. Maybe God's natural order was important. Maybe nature was telling me something and my feathered buddies needed their rooster.

Frank's first three days home were aweful. He'd gotten bigger, looked beautiful with billowing tail fethers and he had an impressive waddle. The hens seemed smitten too. But it quickly became obvious Frank was a jack wagon, an aggressive sexual preditor, a rapist and brute. I didn't like this chicken at all.

I was especially horrified when Frank assaulted my hens, grabbing them by the back of the neck and forcing himself on them. They squacked and ran, but Mary Ann and Shaq were no match for Frank's power and horny determination. Roosters can have sex more than fifty times a day! I only had two hens. My poor girls were exhausted. I was throwing rocks at Frank, spraying him with the hose, chasing him away from the hens, doing anything I could to give Mary Ann and Shaq a break.

I called and texted friends with chickens. "Is chicken sex always violent."

Everyone responded, instantly, "Yeah, it's rape. I should have warned you." "Always, roosters are dicks, that's just how they are."

The weird thing was Mary Ann and Shaq seemed happier. I was confused. The girls stopped being broody, First thing in the morning, before the sun rose but after Frank cock a doodled doed a dozen times, they were down stairs ready to get out of the coop. After months of being pouty, the girls were ready to take on a new day.

I wanted to send handsome Frank the Rooster away again, but I couldn't stand the thought of Mary Ann and Shaq being sad. So, I waited and watched.

The first thing I noticed, everynight, when Mary Ann and Shaq went upstairs to the coop, Frank waited. He let the girls get settled on the roosting bars then postioned himself in the small door of the roost.

I called a chicken friend. "Well, yeah, that's the number one job of a rooster. Keep his hens safe at night."

I was impressed. He was doing his job.

Then, I started watching Frank and the hens in the yard. We have five acres. but the hens had stopped wandering around to find new, more exciting grass and bugs. Before the return of Frank they were always nervous, confused, and hesitant, all the time. .They were scared of everything, all the time. They were big fluffy chickens.

Now, each morning, Frank struts into the yard as his hens cheerfully follow. The girls poke and peck in the grass, happy and oblivious to any dangers. But Frank is a sentintal, like the Queen's guards at Buckingham Palace. His long neck streaches skyward and he never stops watching, looking for anything unusual, something dangerous or threatening. Sometimes, he pecks at a bug, but ninty percent of the time, Frank is on gaurd duty, never waivering and one hundred percent focused on any threat to the hens. When a hawk screams or he hears a crow, blue jay or dogs barking, Frank hustles and herds Mary Ann and Shaq to the nearest bush. He instantly finds them cover.

Maybe Mother Nature or God know something I don't. Apparently, roosters are a lot more important than I ever imagined and they know exactly what they are supposed to do.. I'm working to ignore the violent rape scenes because Frank's job is vital.. He knows what he's supposed to do and never faulters.

My hens, my girls, need their rooster.

Welcome home Frank.

#rooster #roosters #hens #newflock #silkies