Things have been placid in the two flocks. I moved Seymour to the big flock and right away started getting stressed-out hens and one injury, but I moved the four obvious malcontents to the Fortress of Attitude and things settled down in both locations pretty much immediately. Seymour’s still on report, and may still end up as roast high school principal, but right now things are going well.
In fact, Seymour works hard to fulfill his function.
He’s a rooster, and most of the time he only theoretically has any function. But this afternoon, in his opinion, the time had come for him to throw his tender young life between the flock and the Horrors of Nature.
I came by this morning, did a bunch of stuff, had my mind on the next chore, and apparently I forgot to latch the chickenhouse door. There was no wind, and so there was no immediate indication that I’d screwed up. But this afternoon the wind came up and blew the door open. I don’t know when, it could have been hours before my afternoon visit. I saw the door, looked around and didn’t see any loose chickens, went inside and only saw Seymour standing at the door between the chicken house and their fenced yard like Horatius at the bridge, gonna defend his hens. He saw me, sounded a warning and actually fluffed himself for righteous, futile battle. When I settled him down and got past him, there were nine stressed-out hens in the fenced yard all safe.
Funniest thing I’ve seen in a while: He was ready, gonna fight whatever came through that normally-closed door to the death. Would have been his death, but he was gonna do it.