Thursday, April 22, 2010

O Whither Thou Go, Kanye West?

What are the odds? Our neighbors and ourselves purchased a total of 8 chicks, or four each. Each of us named one out of the four with a ‘male’ name, i.e., one had a name which could be construed as male in our society (Kanye West for us, Willie for our neighbors). In both cases, these males indeed turned out to be roosters. What, I ask, are the odds of this? Where is a statistician when you need one?!?! Considering these were supposed to be sexed those are pretty weird odds. Once Kanye showed his true nature, and his nails on chalk adolescent cock-a-doodle-do, the question became what do we do with this guy? We couldn’t keep him as it’s unlawful to house a rooster within the city limits. I did what any reasonable person would do – I tried to give him away for free on Craigslist. I figured that since there were roughly 20 or so other roosters on Craigslist that this was a hot commodity. Apparently not. No takers, not even an email asking if he would taste good for Sunday supper (which we would have happily obliged). It’s not that Kanye was a bad sort – it was not his behavior that gave him away but rather his physical manifestations.

Luckily, the farm store had a policy of taking back the roosters (which they should since they’re claiming they’re only selling hens). Apparently it was a long drive out there for Melissa, but she was able to keep him out of the stew pot – at least that’s what they told her at the store. Now we are down to 3 hens, and only one easter-egger. That means fewer eggs, but also fewer beaks to feed. We’ll see how it goes the first year and whether we want to increase the flock next year by a bird or two. The remaining gals don’t seem to mind having their stud gone, but perhaps I missed a tear or two that was shed. They do seem to love their new home since they’re in it 24/7 now.

Fare-thee-well Kanye, wherever you are!

1 comment:

  1. After the WWII your grandfather never liked chicken. During the war when he was in Italy, the soldiers needed to forage for something to eat. Evidently chickens were in ample supply. He told the story of how they would catch the chickens then grab them by the neck and crack them like a bullwhip. Too bad you didn’t know about this before you gave the rooster away.