My Rooster Wants to Kill Me
But I’ll never stop loving the little twerp
My rooster’s desire to kill me began with my Minnie Mouse apron. He eyed it suspiciously as I swept into the chicken coop to gather eggs. Perhaps the bright red color and the ruffled edge made him think I was a rival rooster, coming to claim his hens?
His aggression grew. When I showed up at the gate, he would rush sideways at the fence, chest out. “You want a piece of me? Huh? Huh? What you gonna do?” he’d taunt.
And then, one day, we needed to spread diatomaceous earth in the coop. We let the chickens free range while we worked. Because they were unused to wandering free, they had no idea how to get back in the coop as the sun began to set. I tried to catch one, to start putting them back in the coop for the night.
The hen I tried to catch squawked and ran, terrified. The rooster puffed out his neck and ran toward me. I backed away. Any time I got near the flock, he chased me away. As the sun started to set, some of the hens roosted on the wheelbarrow or up against the coop. A few others perched on the goats’ fence. One wandered far away into the weeds. Fortunately, I was keeping tabs on everyone…from a safe distance.
Finally, the rooster flew up onto the fence around the coop. I seized my chance, walked up behind him, put my hand on his little feathered bottom, and gave him a push. With Roo out of the way, I was able to gather the rest of the chickens, putting them safely to bed.
Now, I only go in the coop after the sun sets, when the rooster has settled in for the night. Chickens become docile at night. In the darkness, I can pick the rooster up and cuddle him. He doesn’t enjoy it. I can almost hear him cursing under his breath each time I touch him, vowing revenge. Sometimes, he sees me coming and hides behind one of the hens.
I tried so hard to befriend this flock. When they were babies, I used to sit in the coop with them. As they grew, I would flip over logs and rocks, gathering earthworms to feed them. Then I’d sit in the coop, talking to them as they fought over the treats I brought them. I taught a few of the young hens to fly up and perch on my arms. Even the rooster did it once.
Roo is just being a good rooster. It’s not personal. His job is to protect his flock, and that includes protecting them from Minnie Mouse apron-wearing chicken farmers who try too hard to pick them up and cuddle them. In that sense, he’s the best rooster I’ve ever had.
