It only comes to mind to post about it after a conversation on another board about a cherished acquaintance of some years back who was a pianist, but also a voice coach to operatic sopranos. Last weekend, I helped the neighbor on one side, Nick, butcher the last of his ducks, before the predators finished picking the rest off. WEhile I was scalsding the last of the duckd for plucking, Nick called my neighbor from the other side, Dave, to have him bring over the two young roos he had ready to go. Dave skipped the brooding this spring and bought nine assorted chickens. One BR, one BA, the rest some mix of RIRs and RSLs. So the first roos, the BR and one of the Rhodies, are off to freezer camp. Now the next (and, we think, last) two roos are combing out and starting to crow. I heard it with the first two. Their first calls were almost what you'd expect if you stepped on your dog's foot. It only took a couple of days for them each to get the cock-a-doo part down. The doodle took a while. These next two are going thropught the same thing, but, my Lawd! ain't it takin' them some time. I don't have a conductor's baton, but I'm thinkin' of takin' a chopstick next door, and a milk crate to sit on, and seein' if I can't get either of both of these boys with the program. They're musical enough, how hard can it be to get the dotted-eighth and the sixteenth note of a respectable doodle in there? Really?