I slaughtered my rooster, Ambrose Burnside, yesterday. I was sad to do it. I dislike killing anything. However, he was too aggressive to live on my farm. He had begun attacking me every time I came into the barn. He attacked Flossie the barn cat. He attacked the geese, not just chasing but pursuing them with mad intent. On Saturday morning he chased my old goose Kay out of the barn and up the hill until she went through the fence and in with the sheep for protection. That afternoon he chased a frantic Serena around the sheep stall, tearing out her feathers.
Ambrose had outgrown his teenage scruffiness and was very handsome. I’m sorry these last photos had to be taken on a drizzly weekend in the mud, as he rippled with iridescent green, gold, and copper in the sunshine. However his beauty was beside the point when he was flying at you, wings spread and spurs extended.
I don’t know what went wrong with Ambrose. He came to me as a young adult and perhaps he had a difficult past. Once he was with me I treated him with the same care and deference I’ve treated every rooster, all of whom remained friendly for years.
I plucked and gutted the carcass in the kitchen and we’ll have chicken soup for dinner.
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Meanwhile, of his six babies, the one with the dislocated leg was dead the second day. However the yellow chick without balance cheeped on. It became more steadily upright. It was still clueless and did not seem to be able to follow its mothers instructions or even navigate on its feet. It did not eat or drink, despite my repeatedly dipping its beak. Morning and evening I lifted the hen, expecting to find the chick dead. But no. Cheep! Cheep! It seemed that though this yellow chick had been the first to start pipping its way out of the egg, it might simply be delayed in its maturity. Feeling cheered, I nicknamed it “A Day Late and A Dollar Short” and prayed it would get the hang of eating before it starved to death.
It did. Now I can’t tell “Dollar” from the healthy yellow chick, and all five run around like busy sandpipers. My hope is one will prove to be a rooster and grow up to lead the flock.