The gift from my first rooster.
You can see why I'm a little hesitant! The scar down my nose is a phallic symbol -- which is funny.... one year later.
Ha! War wounds!!
A childhood friend was thrown from a horse, trampled and broke both legs. For the first year or two of high school she was in a wheelchair. One leg is now permanently shorter than the other one.
No one dared smack their hand at the horse and threaten to put her down, or accused the owner or my friend of poor horse handling. They accepted this as an accident that a more mature rider probably would have known how to avoid, and then they reviewed what had happened and used it as a learning opportunity.
With roosters we have different expectations and responses. When a neighbor put down a rooster and I asked him why, he called the boy some horrible names and said he didn't know how to obey. But he never made any effort to learn how to work with his rooster.
He was inconvenienced, broke the bird's neck, and disposed of the body without processing it for meat. He's a hunter, so this was especially disappointing.
The plight of the rooster is quite sad.
I'm sure plenty of roosters have had the same thing happen to them just so I can have chicken on the dinner table. That's why I'm considering either becoming a vegetarian again or confronting this and creating a rooster flock someday. I can't this year. The husband element says no way. But my intention is to raise laying hens and meat chickens, so it's bound to happen in my near future.
For now, there's dear Henry and his three sons. Today a neighbor's friend expressed interest in adopting them and raising the boys as pets on her farm. I'm elated. With eight of the ten Henry eggs fertile, I'm likely to see even more roosters next year. It's good knowing there are people who would welcome some as pets.
It's also good having a backup plan and being open to the freezer option.
(I thought I'd give myself a thumbs up. It's been a rough day for reasons that have nothing to do with chickens, believe it or not.)