Ten months ago when I first arrived in San Antonio Palópo there were fourteen, kind of ugly, half grown chicks - past being cute, with no real form or color, much like a gangly pre-teen at that awkward stage of life. Until the chicks had grown big enough that they couldn't fit through the chain-link fence they were enclosed in their coop and only allowed to peek outside at the world and look longingly at their future living space. I was down at their pen the day they were let out for the first time. They went racing around flapping their wings and squawking with delight. It was so fun to watch them. One day I made gestures of strangulation to Maria, our Guardian, questioning whether she would eventually wring their necks and cook them. She looked at me in horror as if I were El Diablo incarnate - No, no, no - eggs only she admonished and gave me the evil eye! However, once in a while I see she walks home with a chicken tucked under her arm and we never see it again. And now there are nine. Every day Maria or one of her daughters came to feed the pollos and clean the coop. These were and are well-fed, clean and happy chickens.
When the lone rooster matured, any thoughts of buying an
alarm clock went out the window. Not that I want an alarm clock and not that I
couldn't tell the time before from the neighboring cock crows but this one is
in your face at around 3:30am every day. He's loud and proud and not shy about
letting the world know how promptly vociferous he can be. It's not so bad. I
have become used to him and some days, when I'm in the mood, we have a two-way
crowing conversation. I can see him from my roof top as he stands on top of his
coop lording over his harem and trying to figure out where this other rooster
(me) who doesn't really sound like a rooster is coming from. So silly.
Sometimes Maria lets the flock have free rein of the garden.
They don't wander too far, although I've seen them next door pecking at the
growing corn and down at the lake annoying the ducks who are only trying to
rest on the dock in peace. When the girls are out the rooster has his hands or
wings in his case, full. He hurries and scurries the whole day to make sure
they are all safe and where they should be. If they wander off a bit (in his
estimation), he'll go charging after them, shaking his combs and tut-tutting
until they have been successfully rounded up. A typical male - he's a scream!
The other day one of the hens got out of the pen somehow. She probably stood on
the coop and jumped and flapped until she made it over the fence. It can be
done - I've seen the turkeys next door escape in the same manner. Anyway,
mid-morning that day it penetrated my brain that something was wrong with "Sir Galahad". He just wouldn't shut up and it was starting to grate on my nerves. I
walked down to see what was wrong. Well, as it turns out - nothing. The errant black
hen was having the time of her life running around the garden pecking and
scratching the compost heap at will and probably sticking her beak up at all
her still-enclosed sisters and his Lordship to boot. The rooster was having a
blessed fit and you could tell she didn't give a hoot so to speak.
It's no wonder he is so very protective of them. They are a
beautiful flock of fowl. Plump and shiny, they are all colours - black, brown,
red and fawn. They are full of feathers and look nothing like the scrawny
critters you see running the mountain paths on the way to market. And he, the
sheik, is the most beautiful of all. I've never really seen a full grown
rooster this up close and personal before. His feathers are iridescent, his
comb is scarlet and his spurs are sharp enough to throw a glint. He stands
about 30 inches (75cm) tall and his bright, yellow-rimmed eye misses not a
thing. The dude is fierce!
Point in case: The day before yesterday I was in the garden
to pick some fruit and vegetables. The chickens were scattered out in the
garden doing their thing. I was minding my own business winding my way down the
side of the mountain when out of nowhere the rooster attacks me from behind. I
didn't know what hit me. He's screeching and flapping and trying to scar me
with his spurs and talons and he was doing a pretty good job of it. He knocked
me off my feet, which is no joke because it's a steep mountain and it wouldn't
take much to roll to the bottom. I got to my feet and was flapping my arms and
screeching right back at him but he wasn't one bit scared of me. It would have
been hilarious to witness. Clearly though, I was going to win this fight and he
finally backed off. Once I'd caught my breath and checked my scratches and
bloody wounds for signs of real injury (there were none), I went on my way to
pick out a few onions, limes and avocados. On the way back up I took a stick
with me but except for flapping of wings as I passed and his beady eye on me
the whole time, the confrontation was over. When I got back in the house I
burst out laughing. I mean, how crazy is that? The nerve of him! What a
glorious bird. I am so much bigger than him but he had no qualms about
attacking an intruder into his garden when his hens were out wandering at risk.
I can only think I must have come between him and a couple of his girls. Oh,
the chivalry of it all sets my heart aquiver. I have much respect for him. Rock
on "Sir Galahad!"
A Few Chicken Facts.
♥ There are at least two hundred breeds and variations of domestic chickens on record, most though are extinct or rare.
♥ There are more chickens on earth than there are people, over three billion in china alone. ♥ The red Jungle fowl Gallus gallus is generally believed to be the ancestor of the modern domesticated chicken. ♥ Recent evidence suggests that domestication of the chicken began in Vietnam over 10,000 years ago. ♥ Chickens are the closest living relative of the tyrannosaur. ♥ If you have a fear of chickens you may be Alektorophobic. ♥ A chickens' heart beats at an amazing 280-315 beats a minute. ♥ Studies show that chickens once thought as stupid are capable of complex thought see Sentience in farm Animals: Chickens ♥ Chickens enjoy dust bathing and become frustrated if they are prevented from doing so, such as in the close confinement of factory farmed battery hens. ♥ In their natural environment Chickens are fastidiously clean and preen their feathers everyday ♥ Chickens are omnivores, they eat both vegetables and meat. In the wild, chickens eat grain, seeds, fruit, other vegetation, and insects, they often scratch at the soil to search for seeds and insects. Chickens like grit in their diet, which helps them to digest their food. ♥ In the wild Chickens may live for five to eleven years however in the confinement of intensive farming, a meat chicken, called a broiler, generally lives only six weeks before slaughter and a hen lives only until she is spent, a term used to describe a hen who can no longer lay eggs. A free range or organic meat chicken will usually be slaughtered at about 14 weeks and also as with their factory farmed counterparts hens are slaughtered when they are spent. See: Animal Rights: Chickens ♥ Some breeds of chickens can lay coloured eggs: Ameraucana and Araucana can lay eggs colored in shades of green or blue, depending on the breed. ♥ In their natural environment Chickens live together as a flock. They have a communal approach to the incubation of eggs and raising of young. |
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