Happy hatchday, boys!
My two pekin cockerels. The one on the right was hatched on the Fourth of July, which is why he’s named Sam. The one on the left is named Mo because he was originally named Molly and he let me down. He hatched a few days earlier than Sam. My first ever home grown chick, in fact.
I asked our good old country vet if he would neuter them for me. He refused. The one time he tried it, he said, the bird died on the operating table. Apparently, chicken kidneys are very close to chicken gonads. Makes you wonder how French farmer’s wives have managed to grow capons all these generations.
This picture was taken, obviously, before these two became blood enemies. That happened suddenly one day when they were about 18 months old. One afternoon Mo, number two cockerel, decided he was number one cockerel and kicked the shit out of poor Sam. I didn’t know what had happened until Sam turned up missing at roll call. Eventually, he came out of the bushes the muddiest, bloodiest chicken you ever saw. No real harm done, but he was it was a sorry sight.
If you can’t see what’s going on here, Mo is having a happy dust bath in a pot of soil – one of the many, many things my chickens do to annoy Uncle B.
Hope you had a great Fourth. I went back to work today – officially off furlough – so I has a sad, as the meme cats say.
July 5, 2021 — 5:31 pm
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