Thursday, June 11, 2009

Love is Apparently Not Blind

Elvis figures out how to roost. He had to lose the blue suede shoes first.

Since moving the older chickens to the coop, some of the young 'uns in our bathtub have figured out they can jump out. I began to wonder if I couldn't just start sneaking them into the new coop instead of moving them into the newly vacated bathroom.

First, I started with the young Silver Laced Polish, the only other one being Elvis. Because Elvis hasn't crowed or been in fisticuffs with the other roosters, I was beginning to wonder if he was a she.

But the moment the younger one entered, he did a double-take. Which was pretty funny with that big pouf on his head. He rushed over, then twisted his neck so he could see her eye to eye. Then he circled her, and gave her a wing and a peck, thus claiming her for himself. No one challenged. I thought it was very interesting he recognized her as his type of gal.

A little later, I brought over the young Buff Laced Polish, who was instantly recognized by the older one we named Little Bird (after our other hen Big Bird), who ran over to "groom" her new charge. I'm thinking they are both female, because there was no flirting. We are calling her Little Bitty Bird. I think she looks like Woodstock from Peanuts.

Pressing my luck, I brought over a Gold Laced Polish hen. Avelino, the Gold Laced Polish head-honcho rooster, strutted over like a pirate (he reminds us of Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean), circled her with the drama of a toreador with his wing down like a cape, and gave her a peck.

Everything was bliss between the all the "couples" and the rest of the flock. Breeds do recognize their own. How hunky dory!

That is, until Geno the Buttercup, Bruno the Brabanter, Marco the Marans, and Otto the Spitzhauben all decided this hen was the most beautiful they had ever seen. (Well, she is beautiful!) So, now I know it's go for your own breed, unless a real hottie shows up.


You can only imagine what happened next. The biggest free-for-all between the roosters busted out, and the hens all started running around like the sky was falling, and everyone was chasing or being chased, and pecking or being pecked, and some chairs got busted, and whiskey bottles crashed over combs, and when the shots rang out the piano player jumped behind the roosts...

Anyway, I had to bring Angelina back to the tub. Sigh. She is looking over a contract for the cover of Cosmo as we speak.

1 comment:

Dana and Daisy said...

little slut! breaking up those happy couples!

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