I was once given an Old English Game Bantam as a day-old chick. I hand raised him with lots of attention and TLC. He turned out to be The Rooster From Hell! He would charge up full speed from behind and attack with a vengeance. If you turned and looked at him, he would jam on the brakes and peck at the ground; once you again turned your back on him it was game on and he was dead serious. Our insurance man came around once and commented on our two Great Danes, asking if they were good watchdogs. We said, "It's not the big dogs you have to worry about. It's that tiny rooster sneaking up behind you that you have to watch out for!" It got so bad that we took to wearing a Halloween face mask backwards on our heads so that he would think we were looking at him. It was the only thing that stopped him; that is, until he roosted in a tree one night and a Great Horned Owl got him.
My very best rooster was a Partridge Rock. He was the sweetest guy. His son, half Partridge Rock and half Dark Cornish and raised from an egg, took over the flock on his father's passing and he turned out to be even bigger and sweeter, excellent watchdog over the hens and always gentle with them.