My Two Kung Fu Roosters

Life changed dramatically with the coming of two renegade, mean roosters.

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We live in a rural valley where critters of all kinds abound.  Seeing deer and groundhogs, hearing the piercing shrieks of coyotes is a part of life here.  It’s completely normal to have a cow or a bunch of goats escape somebody’s pasture and come to visit.

The thing we weren’t prepared for was the arrival of the kung fu roosters.  The neighbors out the road have a habit of acquiring, and neglecting, animals, and frequently, the neighbor’s animals migrate to us.  The animals find out quickly we feed them better.  Usually they’ll eat and go home at some point.  One day, we looked outside and saw a red rooster and a hen.  They were the cutest couple, pecking around and eating bugs, having all the fun chickens should have.  Then one day the hen disappeared; likely she simply went back home to the neighbor’s, but the big red rooster didn’t leave.  He decided he liked it here and moved in, so to speak.

Now, Mom warned me, having had chickens around in the country when she was a kid, to be careful and watch the rooster carefully because it might be mean and jump on us.  So I took her at her word and watched Mr. Rooster closely, but mostly he simply acted as if he enjoyed our company.

That all changed, however, when another chicken showed up.  This second chicken is one funky-looking, five color chicken with blonde feathers on its head.  We thought it was a hen because it’s so much smaller than Mr. Red Rooster.  Then one day, I heard a second chicken crowing and found out this new chicken crowed like Mr. Red.  I still thought it was a hen because I learned from researching the ‘net that occasionally, hens do crow, especially when there aren’t very many roosters around.  So I still thought we had a hen, but one day Ms. Hen strutted toward me and jumped on my shin bone.  Mr. Rooster followed suit and banged my shin, too.

I wasn’t hurt, but pretty disgusted that we have two mean chickens on our hands, and we certainly didn’t go out and haul them in of our own choosing!  We had a friend who really knows chickens come to do some work, and he says Ms. Hen is actually a mixed breed rosecomb rooster.  Mr. Red is a big Rhode Island Red.

Oh, great–not only do we have two mean kung fu chickens, but we don’t even get any eggs out of the deal.  These cotton pickin’ roosters are gettin’ meaner, too!  They rush to us, especially to me, every time they see me.  Our friend says it’s partly dominant behavior, but partly, they’re also looking for a hen.

Oh, double great–that does wonders for my self-esteem.  I guess I look more like a chicken than a woman.  Maybe I am part chicken; I found out when the roosters aren’t around and we want to feed them, all I have to do is go outside and crow, and both those clucks come running, trying to find the chicken they heard crowing.  It really confuses them.

I’ve taken to threatening them by charging at them and swinging at them with a shovel or stick or something.  They do, sort of, get back when I do that, but what they really hated

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is when I took the water hose and sprayed ‘em.  They also hate it if I throw things at them.  I’m not being mean to them so much as I have to do that in order to not get attacked!!

When we thought they were man and wife, we’d named them Chester and Hester.  Now that we know what these renegade roosters really are, we renamed them:  They are the James boys, Frank and Jesse, our kung fu roosters.

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