I’m not proud of myself
Mo’s special girl is G. I can’t tell which of them leads and which of them follows, but I used to find them together well away from the rest of the flock, like they were making a break for it. That’s before Mo went all ‘alpha cockerel’.
It makes sense as they’re very similar color. Chickens are hella racist.
In the comments of yesterday’s post, Mrs P asks an uncomfortable question:
Yes. God yes. It’s really shaming.
I make an effort to observe the flock together and not pair them off randomly, but it’s awkward as hell. Particularly in the evening when I’m putting a hen in with a cockerel that has been cooped up for hours. They can be…swift and ungentle.
Fortunately, chicken sex is undramatic. They bump bottoms three or four times. The roughness is because the cockerel steadies himself by getting a big beakful of her neck feathers. She doesn’t like this one bit. If the hen is completely unwilling, they’ll go ’round and ’round in circles (and I’m afraid I usually intervene).
And always – every time – the hen shakes herself afterwards, head to toe, like a wet dog. She doesn’t go brrrrr, but it’s implied.
April 16, 2020 — 7:48 pm
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