Favorites, Part 2: The Bearded Lady

When we first got chickens, our plan was to hang on to a couple of the Buckeye roosters. Unfortunately, they were way too aggressive. They could draw blood with their spurs. They'd attack each other, me, Lori, the kids, the mail carrier, the neigbors, inanimate objects... So we decided to try to find a full-grown rooster whose temperament was a known quantity. We found somebody with two roosters available, both well-tempered and both from desireable breeds. And both with ironic names. The Buff Orpington, Rocky, was afraid of his own shadow. And the Araucana (Ameraucana? Americana?) was named Sherry, because his original owners thought he was a hen when they named him.

Unfortunately, Rocky didn't last long. He died of unknown causes. Sherry never liked him, so he may be a leading suspect, but without the CSI: Special Poultry Unit, we'll never know for sure.

At any rate, Sherry is everything we want in a rooster. He's protective of his flock, but he's never shown any signs of aggression toward people. (Despite that, I still flinch from time to time when I cross paths with him, and then remember he's the new guy. I don't miss punting roosters across the yard.) He's much more handsome than any of the other roosters we've had. And anytime he finds food, he alerts the hens with a very distinctive clucking. And he waits for all within hearing range to get there before he takes his first bite.

Here he is, calling the girls for a snack:



...and digging in.


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