We came to the realisation last weekend that one of our chickens is, in fact, not the chicken we thought it to be. You might remember from this post that a couple of months ago we picked up some fuzzy little chicks and were raising them in the hope of having a trio of egg-layers.
Evidently, that's not to be.
I noticed a couple of weeks back that the chooks, and one in particular, were developing some deep green, glossy feathers around the neck area. Then, the largest of the brood - and the one with the deepest, greenest, glossiest neck feathers - started to grow a spouty green tail. Then everything started to fall into place. The standing-up-tall-wing-flapping. The play fighting. The launching off the ramp and bursting out of the chookhouse as soon as I open the door in the mornings.
And then, the crowing.
For the moment, it sounds like a teenage boy whose voice is breaking. Thankfully, he practices at about 7:45am and not any earlier. For now.
We suspect there's another rooster amongst the brood, and one hen. Which means eggs, I suppose, but not exactly what we had planned.
I read in the River Cottage book that it can be helpful to have one rooster among your hens because apparently the hens fight less amongst themselves with a rooster present! Sad but apparently true.
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