Once upon a time there were four little fuzzy chicks who came to live at Dog Trot Farm...two buff and two barred...they were happy, healthy, chicks who over time would be integrated into an existing flock of fifteen...As days turned into weeks the chicks thrived..but one chick in particular matured sooner than the others, poultry puberty had begun...
The signs were subtle at first, as a seasoned chicken keeper I should have known. Perhaps it was denial on my part...but as her "honk" grew into a yodel...finally evolving into a masculine Cock-a-doodle-do...there was no denying it...I now had a full sized...sex crazed rooster...It wasn't pretty...I named him Marvin...he spent his days trying to catch the eye or should I say the tail of my full sized hens...they wanted none of it...Marvin became self indulgent... continually molesting my banty hens...his fate was sealed the day he eyed Travis..
Marvin lived a short, but good life while here at Dog Trot Farm...The day he was butchered Mr Dog Trot and I left town, we took a picnic to camp...His life was not in vain...if Travis could talk I'm sure he would say "Granny, Marvin tastes just like chicken" instead he said..".um mm" It's funny how the brain works, I could never eat an animal that I have given a name to, I do admit Marvin had a lovely aroma while roasting, but that's all I am going to say about that....
14 comments:
What a story. I'm glad that Travis was not attacked by a sex crazed rooster. You know if someone would have asked me if I ever ate rooster, I would have to say that it never occurred to me but I'm sure that there are some roosters that made it on my plate disguised as a chicken. lol.
Have a nice peaceful weekend.
Hugs,
JB
Oh my! What more can I say? Growing up on a small farm, ever time a pig had babies, my mom usually ended up bottle feeding the runt and keeping him in the oven - not to roast him but to have the pilot light keep him warm :) We never did eat them.
The picture of Travis on a previous post is wonderful. He has THE BLUEST eyes. What a cutie/
Hugs :)
Lauren
Good for you!!! I had a rooter that eyed my grandson too and that was it, no second chances. Now you know why I never name my chickens, I have always been afraid we might have to eat them, you know it is that eating friends kind of thing. :)
He was a very pretty rooster though,
There is so much to learn in the hen yard, great post Julie.
life on the farm..... some stay, others are just passing through.
Evening Julie, oh that crazy Rooster Marvin......sorry to say but one of my favorite meals is ummm.....Blessings Francine.
OMG, at least he didn't go yo waste!
grand children are more important than marvin. Off with his head!
Cathy
ohmygosh, Julie. That's funny, but not. Sad, but not. The life of a chicken...and death.
did Marvin attack Travis.....one day while letting the chickens out of the coop....one of our roosters flew at me and clawed my leg, leaving marks even threw my blue jeans....he went bye bye........
Oh Julie, it shouldn't be funny but it is. Perhaps Marvin needed to learn to keep his feathers in his pants or face the consequences. Lol
Oh my!! Poor Marvin....if Marvin had manners and not loved the hens...he'd be crowing outside and not roasting on 310. My "ode" to Marvin....the end.....:)
I dated briefly a Marvin in college before I met CH. I would have liked to have roasted him. Mmmm roasted Marvin the Rooster you do not mess with Travis and his Granny!!!!!!!
Enjoy your Friday at Dog Trot Julie!
I've had BAD roosters and sweet roosters. You did the only thing you could do...The Baby COMES FIRST!!!
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com
Marvin shouldn't have pushed his luck once too far. I wonder if Travis will remember his his delicious homemade chicken dinner was someone who look at him with lovesick eyes. I bet the hens are happy Marvin went to the big stew pot in the sky - hormones & all.
When you live on a farm, you have to make difficult decisions & never look back on them. I don't think I would have been as kind to Marvin as you were. I probably would have clocked him on the noggin with something firm (if the grandbaby wasn't around to see it). I cannot abide a pervert in the barnyard or anywhere else for that matter.
Post a Comment