I Gotta Crow

I love our rooster. He's loud, and he came here in a 60 thousand dollar car. He was someone's pet. He was used to living in the house and eating dog food off a spoon. I love craigslist farm and garden. I meet the best people and so far none of them have killed me. This lady gave us her rooster and hen, and here he's not living in the house, just in the yard, and keeping track of 14 hens. I've had hens but not roosters (tried one once but the crowing was so loud and obnoxious, I handed him back over the fence to my neighbor after one day trial), so I had to read about fertile eggs, and how do I know if he's mated with what hen, and I found out that he'll probably survey the flock for a few days or weeks, til he got comfortable, then depending on how active he is, he'll start the humping process (not how they put it online). I didn't know but roosters don't have a penis. Unless this is made up, BackyardChickens says they have a little hole and hens have a little hole, and the rooster just jumps on the hen and shoots a splatter of goo on the hen, hopefully a hole in one, and after 36 hours of the goo absorbing into the shotput throw target, presto, the hen is fertilized for 3 wks. All the eggs can be a winner. I'm not sure why there isn't a carnival game like this. I'm thinking of presenting my idea (The Chicken and the Egg, Fertile Fun for Families) with an outline and pictures for this new eggsciting game for next year's school carnival at the next PTA meeting. Which will undoubtedly be my last PTA meeting, but what a way to go, right?! They'll be talking about that for years, and it will get me out of the PTA, bonus. When our rooster was dropped off, he brought his wife of 2 years with him. They were childhood sweethearts, since they met as chicks. The lady who gave them to me said, mistily, that her hen would lay an egg on her pillow every morning. On her PILLOW, folks. That means, yes, you do not want to sleep over at that lady's house. The nest - not a sanitary area, especially for a nap. They made up the word "unsanitary" after someone slept under a hen's ass once. I have never wanted to go lay down in the chicken coop. I'm guessing the lady is now washing her sheets, and nostalgically missing the smell of chicken poop right now. But this rooster has brought some hope with his loud voice. I have one dark grey hen that is the Heathcliff of hens. Brooding, and skulking about, waiting on her nest, pacing, fretting, waiting for a fertile egg she can sit on and hatch a little bundle of joy. With the rooster and his fertile wife, I have snatched her fertile egg and stuffed it under my Heathcliff, and she is finally satisfied, sitting there with her ultimate job to do, fluff her feathers, keep it warm, shuffle it under her and wait. I like that with every crow, he's telling us there will be more life. Because he is here, he has made one grey hen happy. Because he is here, my other hens can lay baby-filled eggs. There can always be hatching, there can always be chicks, and new life. I like, walking out to the hen area out there, that there is always something new and unexpected going on. Or at least the possibility. It's worth a little crowing.