It was a sunny St. Patrick's Day in 2012 when dad asked me if I would like to get some chicks. I was so excited!!! We were hoping to buy a few hens and a rooster. Thankfully, the first place we visited had both female AND male chicks. Although someone had reserved all the roosters, the owner was nice enough to let me have one. And even though he seemed like an ordinary young Rhode Island Red rooster, he was special to me. And I wanted to give him a name he could prove was right for him. I chose Kingsley, and it seemed perfect for him because he loved and cared for his flock faithfully.
He grew up into a young rooster with shinny red feathers, a tall crown, beautiful green eyes, and a couple of shaggy green tail feathers. Even when he was only a few weeks old he would run back and forth between his six hens, watching carefully over them. Sometimes I took him for granted, thinking he was too harsh on the girls because I didn't now much about rooster behavior, but I now know he wasn't. And even though he might have not liked me much, he was very respectful of me and my place...
It was in the afternoon that I found feathers blown across the ground when I realized what had happened. Kingsley was found laying dead by the canal. Five of the hens remained with the other hen's feathers laying in a pile, enough to tell that she was no more. A neighbor's dog had come into our yard and killed Kingsley while he fought to protect his girls. He died honorably, and it was good that he died doing something he did best. Protecting his girls. And although he died, only one hen was killed. I was so proud to have such a great rooster to take care of our girls, and that he respected me as their owner.
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