Mattie15
In the Brooder
When I was 19, I was given a fighting rooster.
My cousin was into cockfighting at the time and I was living with them. I'd feed the roosters and make sure they were all taken care of. Some of them were nice, and others would whip you into a tub of butter. I had a yard hen who I absolutely adored. Her name was Dexter- Only because we were sure she was a rooster when she hatched. Dexter would follow me around the yard and do whatever I was doing. Even though she was sick. I fondly remember her flying down the driveway when she seen me step outta the house one afternoon. Her favorite place to be was in my jacket were she slept, even while I was walking around and feeding my cousins game roosters. Eventually, her health got the best of her... I was devastated when I was told she had died. I knew she wasn't getting any better, but I cared for her until she passed. About a month went by. One afternoon, I'd came home from cleaning a neighbors house and one of my four younger cousins ran up to me all excited and said,
"We got you a rooster!"
So they all dragged me out to where the rooster was, in a little round pen.
It was a young cockerel, just old enough to start crowing. He was black with a crimson neck, and red stripes that ran down his back. He was tall and shrimpy looking. His comb hung over his face. At this point, I was a little excited. I'd always wanted a rooster, but didn't want to ask for one since I also had my two dogs and cat living there with me, too.
I made a scrunchy but livable pen for my new buddy to live in, and when I went to move him, the poor guy SCREAMED. I don't think I was ever able to calm him down, but I did get him moved to the other pen. He had a platform, a catwalk, and even a bottom board where I put his food. He had a funny walk: his hen-tail would sway side to side. He was quirky, but I liked him. He was different from the other roosters and cockerels we had.
I began to spend a lot of time with him, and eventually got him to eat out of my hand. He had a great crow for his young age. And his spurs were half an inch long. I went through a bunch of names with him, but eventually settled on Gallus. It fit him.
I spent a lot of time with him. He got used to me and would walk around me, and he even seamed to learn his name. He had a bad crush on one of the yard hens who always traveled by his cage. He'd try to offer her his food, but she didn't give him a glance. Aaand that's when Gallus got a little 'too attached' to my hand... It was his hen. He danced for it and tried mating with it multiple times before he eventually realized that it wasn't a hen. My cousins thought it was funny.
A few months later I moved to my dads. I carried Gallus in a box, one that he'd poke his head out of and give a cluck or two before retreating back into it. I had to make him a round pen to stay in due to us having to build him a real one, but he got to do something that he'd never got to do before: Free-range! Gallus loved it. I'd let him roam around while I was busy inside. He never left the yard. But one time, he disappeared.
I walked around and called out, "GALLUS." The second time, I heard little feet running up behind me. He came running around the front porch. I squatted down to greet him with a pet and then gave him some feed. At this point, I thought he was just coming for the food, so I stepped about 4 yards away from him, while he was busy eating, and called, "Gallus." He turned and came trotting over to me. At that point I knew that he knew his name.
He was about a year old now. He went through his first molt and had a bald spot on his throat. We finished the pen, and Gallus was happy to be in something bigger, because he himself was getting bigger. A few months later, we got him some hens. He was SUPPER happy. At first, he was a little awkward with them, but he caught on really fast about what getting ladies meant: He had to be the rooster and take care of them.
Gallus had turned 2. Those ladies had became his top priority. A nest box?? Gallus had to check it out first. New food?? Gallus had to taste it first. APPLES?? 'Ladies first'. Gallus loved apples, so he knew they were good. His ladies got first dibs on everything he liked. Cicada shells were another favorite of his, so I called them 'Chicken Chips': Another treat that the girls had first dibs on. He kept up with all of them, even when they were free-ranging. He'd keep an eye out for hawks and any danger. If he seen me, then he'd strut over, his ladies in tow. I'd turn over rocks and logs for them, and Gallus would dig up the good stuff for them. If I found a grub, I'd point and say, "Look, Gallus. Here's some." He'd walk over and pick it out for his girls. At the end of the year, they had went through their molt. Gallus had finally grown a half tail- Which unfortunately got ruffled and ruined by dried mud. He still had the bald spot on his neck though. Even at the age of two, Gallus still loved being picked up and loved on. I'd clean the dirt off his beak, play around with his spurs- Which were closing in on 3 inches at the time- And run my hand through his tail feathers. He'd walk around me and purr, making those cute rooster noises that I was used to. On the days were I couldn't let them free-range, Gallus would just wait by the door for me to come and see them. When he'd see me, he'd pace the wire until I opened the door. I always greeted him with a, "Hey, buddy!" He was always so happy to see me, and would always be into whatever I was having to do in the pen. Cleaning out the old hay? 'I'm gonna double check it for bugs right after you pile it.' Getting the eggs? 'I wanna see how many we got- And don't forget to crack on for my ladies.' Bringing a treat? 'I Hope it's an apple.' Having to clip the hens' wings because they started roosting in the trees instead of getting in the coop with Gallus? 'Let me dance around them to help keep them calm after you catch them- Even though you had to use me as a corral.' He was always into everything I was having to do.
And I miss it.
Gallus had just turned three. He had finally grown into his full potential. He was big, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous. His tail had sprouted out to be full, and that bald spot on his neck had filled in that time. His spurs had grown to be close to or over 3 inches long, and I'd only considered trimming them to keep him from tripping over them or from accidentally hurting one of his hens when he did his rooster business. Never once did he use them on me. I moved out of my dad's. I bout a new pen, and moved them into it.
...And I lost Gallus and every hen that same night...
All I have of my beloved rooster is his tail feathers. The exact ones I had been waiting for him to grow in fully. And this was the only year they did. I never would have thought I'd loose half my heart to two mindless dogs that run the streets...
And I never would have thought a rooster could be so sweet and loving. Especially one that was meant to pit and kill its own kind. He surprised everyone who got the chance to meet him, and even me. The one who was blessed to have him.
Rest in peace, Gallus. Only God Himself knows how much I miss you.
My cousin was into cockfighting at the time and I was living with them. I'd feed the roosters and make sure they were all taken care of. Some of them were nice, and others would whip you into a tub of butter. I had a yard hen who I absolutely adored. Her name was Dexter- Only because we were sure she was a rooster when she hatched. Dexter would follow me around the yard and do whatever I was doing. Even though she was sick. I fondly remember her flying down the driveway when she seen me step outta the house one afternoon. Her favorite place to be was in my jacket were she slept, even while I was walking around and feeding my cousins game roosters. Eventually, her health got the best of her... I was devastated when I was told she had died. I knew she wasn't getting any better, but I cared for her until she passed. About a month went by. One afternoon, I'd came home from cleaning a neighbors house and one of my four younger cousins ran up to me all excited and said,
"We got you a rooster!"
So they all dragged me out to where the rooster was, in a little round pen.
It was a young cockerel, just old enough to start crowing. He was black with a crimson neck, and red stripes that ran down his back. He was tall and shrimpy looking. His comb hung over his face. At this point, I was a little excited. I'd always wanted a rooster, but didn't want to ask for one since I also had my two dogs and cat living there with me, too.
I made a scrunchy but livable pen for my new buddy to live in, and when I went to move him, the poor guy SCREAMED. I don't think I was ever able to calm him down, but I did get him moved to the other pen. He had a platform, a catwalk, and even a bottom board where I put his food. He had a funny walk: his hen-tail would sway side to side. He was quirky, but I liked him. He was different from the other roosters and cockerels we had.
I began to spend a lot of time with him, and eventually got him to eat out of my hand. He had a great crow for his young age. And his spurs were half an inch long. I went through a bunch of names with him, but eventually settled on Gallus. It fit him.
I spent a lot of time with him. He got used to me and would walk around me, and he even seamed to learn his name. He had a bad crush on one of the yard hens who always traveled by his cage. He'd try to offer her his food, but she didn't give him a glance. Aaand that's when Gallus got a little 'too attached' to my hand... It was his hen. He danced for it and tried mating with it multiple times before he eventually realized that it wasn't a hen. My cousins thought it was funny.
A few months later I moved to my dads. I carried Gallus in a box, one that he'd poke his head out of and give a cluck or two before retreating back into it. I had to make him a round pen to stay in due to us having to build him a real one, but he got to do something that he'd never got to do before: Free-range! Gallus loved it. I'd let him roam around while I was busy inside. He never left the yard. But one time, he disappeared.
I walked around and called out, "GALLUS." The second time, I heard little feet running up behind me. He came running around the front porch. I squatted down to greet him with a pet and then gave him some feed. At this point, I thought he was just coming for the food, so I stepped about 4 yards away from him, while he was busy eating, and called, "Gallus." He turned and came trotting over to me. At that point I knew that he knew his name.
He was about a year old now. He went through his first molt and had a bald spot on his throat. We finished the pen, and Gallus was happy to be in something bigger, because he himself was getting bigger. A few months later, we got him some hens. He was SUPPER happy. At first, he was a little awkward with them, but he caught on really fast about what getting ladies meant: He had to be the rooster and take care of them.
Gallus had turned 2. Those ladies had became his top priority. A nest box?? Gallus had to check it out first. New food?? Gallus had to taste it first. APPLES?? 'Ladies first'. Gallus loved apples, so he knew they were good. His ladies got first dibs on everything he liked. Cicada shells were another favorite of his, so I called them 'Chicken Chips': Another treat that the girls had first dibs on. He kept up with all of them, even when they were free-ranging. He'd keep an eye out for hawks and any danger. If he seen me, then he'd strut over, his ladies in tow. I'd turn over rocks and logs for them, and Gallus would dig up the good stuff for them. If I found a grub, I'd point and say, "Look, Gallus. Here's some." He'd walk over and pick it out for his girls. At the end of the year, they had went through their molt. Gallus had finally grown a half tail- Which unfortunately got ruffled and ruined by dried mud. He still had the bald spot on his neck though. Even at the age of two, Gallus still loved being picked up and loved on. I'd clean the dirt off his beak, play around with his spurs- Which were closing in on 3 inches at the time- And run my hand through his tail feathers. He'd walk around me and purr, making those cute rooster noises that I was used to. On the days were I couldn't let them free-range, Gallus would just wait by the door for me to come and see them. When he'd see me, he'd pace the wire until I opened the door. I always greeted him with a, "Hey, buddy!" He was always so happy to see me, and would always be into whatever I was having to do in the pen. Cleaning out the old hay? 'I'm gonna double check it for bugs right after you pile it.' Getting the eggs? 'I wanna see how many we got- And don't forget to crack on for my ladies.' Bringing a treat? 'I Hope it's an apple.' Having to clip the hens' wings because they started roosting in the trees instead of getting in the coop with Gallus? 'Let me dance around them to help keep them calm after you catch them- Even though you had to use me as a corral.' He was always into everything I was having to do.
And I miss it.
Gallus had just turned three. He had finally grown into his full potential. He was big, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous. His tail had sprouted out to be full, and that bald spot on his neck had filled in that time. His spurs had grown to be close to or over 3 inches long, and I'd only considered trimming them to keep him from tripping over them or from accidentally hurting one of his hens when he did his rooster business. Never once did he use them on me. I moved out of my dad's. I bout a new pen, and moved them into it.
...And I lost Gallus and every hen that same night...
All I have of my beloved rooster is his tail feathers. The exact ones I had been waiting for him to grow in fully. And this was the only year they did. I never would have thought I'd loose half my heart to two mindless dogs that run the streets...
And I never would have thought a rooster could be so sweet and loving. Especially one that was meant to pit and kill its own kind. He surprised everyone who got the chance to meet him, and even me. The one who was blessed to have him.
Rest in peace, Gallus. Only God Himself knows how much I miss you.
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and have a wonderfully sweet memory to cherish. Now that is why most of us who are on here keep fowl, they have so much to enrich our lives with. Thanks for sharing.
