Elsveta641
Songster
Just a quick post in honor of my special rooster who died last night. He was a beautiful Liege Fighter, about 2 years old. If you google the breed and look over the wonderful photos, not a single one holds a candle to Arthur. He was 31 inches tall and 14 pounds, he had spurs an inch long and very intelligent eyes that almost seemed human. He never challenged a human being, would not even show aggression to noisy children or strange men. But hed beat another rooster to death for hassling his hens, charge after birds of prey as they swooped down and even killed rats and possums. He defended the barn cats and their kittens as part of the flock. We had a Ayam Cemani cockrel break a leg and Arthur would not pester him or allow others to, who ever hear of a rooster with a sense of fair play? He learned the commands "drop it" and "go away" and would come to me when I called his name. No other word, just his name. My daughter was afraid of him because of his size and enormous spurs. She would sit with corn in her hand for the hens and freeze if he came near. Hed watch her carefully and inch forward, stopping if shes flinch. When he got close enough hed take a kerbal of corn, do the tidbit display and then look her in the eye as his hens ate the corn. The rooster trained the child not to fear him. As he sat in my bathroom last night gasping for breath, in a last ditch effort to save him I administered Albuterol with a nebulizer. When he looked at me his puffy eyes seemed to say "this isn't going to help, I'm going to die." I'm not just projecting onto him either, its difficult to explain. His eyes had expression to them and his mind had intelligence we normally expect of a good dog. When he passed I wrapped him in a sheet and carried him to the fire ring, but it had been raining and a fire wouldnt light. So I had to leave him there, it seemed a very shameful end to such a noble creature. I asked my husband for gas but he didnt have any and it was too late to go to the store. I excused myself to bed and cried myself to sleep. When I awoke the fire pit was smouldering in the rain. Before work, before dawn, my husband had used gallons of gasoline to ensure Arthur was taken care of. Im fortunate to have several of Arthur's chicks in various stages of growth, but the illness that took him has been taking his offspring from me at the rate of several per day. Theres been cocci, gnats, respiratory infections, raccoons, minks...just one thing after another. I can no longer sell chicks in good conscious because of the illnesses, and with Arthur gone we will not be raising more chickens. I'm collection eggs for a few days to hatch in hopes of getting more of his chicks, but that will be the last of the babies created here. It sucks. Arthur's favorite hen had followed us to the back door when I brought him in for "chicken hospice care". She has been calling out there all day, wanting him to come out. This is the first time a adult chicken hasnt survived being sick indoors, she thinks he will be back.
