Your Mother Was a Cochin and Your Father Was a Bantam – The Return of Monster Truck the Eagle
Some days ago my wife say a flyer for “Free Chickens” at a local store. Being opportunistic we were at the lady’s house some hours later. It turns out her Cochin hen had hatched out about ten eggs a few months back that a Bantam rooster has fertilized, and the woman only wanted ones that would one day lay some eggs for her. That meant that the roosters from that batch were not useful to her and were up for grabs. I’ve never had roosters before, but even with my limited experience, there was at least three good uses for some roosters that I could think of; fertilizing chicken eggs, alarm clocks, and meat. The main goal was meat, but we figured taking care of the roosters until they reached slaughter size could be a good lesson in responsibility for our children.
I know that talking about killing chickens and using words like “slaughter” may turn some people off, but every chicken that ever hatches will one day die. Many are killed by animals or die of disease, but most end up being consumed by humans. Nothing out of the ordinary occurs when a farmer kills an animal himself and eats what he raised. In fact, to have thousands of chickens in long metal buildings being pumped full of antibiotics to attempt to overcome the unsanitary and unnatural conditions in which the chickens are being raised would have once been considered out of the ordinary (not to mention then “mechanically separating” the chicken, mixing the meat with more chemicals and perhaps even polystyrene foam before pressing it into some sort of “nugget” form in a mass production factory that then freezes and distributes the supposed foodstuff worldwide for cheap consumer ingestion). These days actually knowing something about the source of food, other than what may or may not be printed on the label, can be helpful, and probably a whole lot safer. That said, I’d rather not continue to have to leave my family to earn some dollars that I then continue to use to purchase over-processed edibles which may be poisoning or dangerous to my children anyway, so free roosters sounded like a good idea. The price was right anyway. I’ve also heard it said the best tasting chicken is a happy chicken, so why not let them live a good, more natural life prior to their inevitable death? Yes, I have comes to terms with the reality that it may be a good idea for me to personally kill a chicken, and I am okay with that.
Anyway, the lady was a real nice retired woman and even turned down my offer of trading for some noodle beans or cucumbers, which I figured I should at least offer. Free chickens is a great deal and a real blessing for my family, so I thought that I should attempt to bless the folks giving them to me. Her garden was providing a good amount for her and her husband, so she kindly turned my offer. She had also told me over the phone that she had four or five roosters out that batch which she wanted to give away, but ended up giving us six total. She only asked that if some ended up laying eggs and not being roosters at all, that we would bring them back for her. Personally, it looks to me like we received three of each, three roosters and three hens, but I can’t be sure yet with my limited knowledge and experience. We will have to wait this one out, waiting for each chicken to either lay an egg or a crow a “cock-a-doodle-doo”. We knew by the next morning that at least a few were roosters once they started practicing their young crows at around 6:30am, which is a great time for me to get up anyway, and would actually be considered sleeping in on many days.
Since we have some close neighbors (though I can usually hear roosters from two other nearby houses every morning) we figured that we may not actually get to do too much raising of these roosters. If they turned out to be too loud and annoying, or happened to be too aggressive for the children, we would just end up eating smaller chickens that if we let them grow larger. Either way, the price was right, and food is food. We had begun to add a few animals to our homestead anyway recently, and were giving the children specific charge over certain animals based on their levels of obedience and responsibility. Our oldest two daughters each have two rabbits and another chicken under their care, and these roosters gave our son his first chance to be entrusted with an animal, since he had finally displayed an appropriate amount of responsibility and obedience. The girls had named the rabbits names including Cookie, Brownie, Polkadot, and Runaway and have named their chickens Cherry and Strawberry, but this rooster gave our boy a chance to name his own animal. We personally think that he nailed it when he chose to call it “Monster Truck the Eagle”.
Of course “Monster Truck” may be a peculiar enough name for a bird and this young rooster certainly is not an eagle, but “Monster Truck the Eagle” does have a certain ring to it. Plus, the boy is only three so far, so it is fitting. Unfortunately, their relationship has been quite distanced. After the brief naming ceremony I gave the boy his bird and specifically instructed him not to let it go. Within about three minutes his four year old sister told him that he could let it walk around on the ground (which was in direct opposition to my instruction to him) and he chose to set it down an allow it to take off into the woods. Now for a thirty five year old ex-smoker, I’m pretty quick and can outrun the twelve to twenty-some year olds in my neighborhood, but Monster Truck the Eagle is even quicker. I had grabbed a fishing net and jumped off into the woods after it, but to no avail. That bird was G-O-N-E gone! I certainly put forth a valiant effort and don’t mind charging through the underbrush while blackberry thorns are breaking off in my skin, but still came up empty handed.
This event gave great opportunity for me to explain why they are not the ones in charge of our family and why they need to pay special attention to what their parents tell them, but it still meant that we were out a rooster, and our boy was unsuccessful in being responsible for the animal. It was a learning opportunity for sure, but still a minor tragedy in the boy’s life. Though a few brief sightings occurred over the next couple days, no one even came close to capturing the escapee. The best I did was almost getting on my boots before he was completely gone, so by the time I was reading to pursue, I couldn’t see or hear him anywhere.
That brings me to where we left off yesterday, when I mentioned perhaps having to sniper the AWOL rooster to reclaim our meat source. Though that may have been a desperate option, it was still a valid option to consider. The facts were that a young rooster was on the loose without food or water, staying out in the woods all night with many potential predators, and was still too fast and elusive for us to catch. Though I might not be able to catch him on foot, I could still “catch” him with a bullet. He wouldn’t be able to outrun my break-barrel pellet rifle, and we would still be blessed with meat rather than having it die or get eaten in the woods. Plus we had at least two more roosters (I think) which we could replace it with. If a new puppy can console a mourning child after a longtime family dog passes away, surely a comparable rooster could replace one my boy had just met, right?
Well, fortunately Monster Truck the Eagle reappeared, and both my oldest daughter and myself saw it. I quickly grabbed the fishing net again and my two oldest girls and five other neighborhood children were almost immediately in pursuit. I dove deep into the woods to cut off the escape route while the children formed a loose circle around it. This time it was eight on one, and that one may have been without food or water for a few days. I thought for sure that I would be the hero, but once I got it out of the woods the kids chased it around a house and my daughter managed to bare hand the feathery beast. Monster Truck the Eagle, the renegade rooster, had finally been captured. The reunion was blessed but brief, as I had to leave for work shortly, but I told my seven assistants that ice cream would be in order so that we could celebrate properly.
We will see what other issue arise with these roosters, and how many non-roosters we will end up giving back, but so far, so good, as we still have six. Plus, Monster Truck the Eagle has made even more of a name for himself, though my son didn’t leave him much room for that when he chose it. By the way, the rabbit named “Runaway” earned itself that name after a similar episode, but we got that one back too.
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