I'm a Henry expert, not an all-roosters expert — and I honestly doubt
anyone can claim that title for themselves.
When Henry started sexually maturing last year, he became protective of his home and everything in it, such as food bowls and digging boxes. Remove one for a refill or a cleaning and he'd scream and then run after my ankles. My reaction was always fear and to put something between me and Henry. But that only encouraged his role as the aggressor and me as the screaming crazy person.
So one day, when he was three or four months old, I grabbed a Mr. Longarm (an extension pole with a fluffy head for removing spiderwebs) and gently moved it toward him as he charged for my ankles. He screamed and jumped up into the air. I was able to get him under control enough so that I could safely grab the bowls and leave.
This wasn't a solution, problem solved kind of thing. It was more about me realizing there are things I can do to feel some sense of control around my rooster. From that point forward I've used Mr. Longarm to herd the entire flock daily. You barely need to move it in their direction for them to respond, and I swear to you, after a year of saying "Go home" and guiding them with the pole, they'll sometimes head to their yard on their own with only words as a guide.
It was encouraging to see my macho rooster behaving like an ornery baby with that pole and doing what I was asking him to do. But although the pole is super lightweight and much more comfortable to use than a rake or a broom, it wasn't giving me the relationship I wanted with Henry. All it was doing was playing on his fear and keeping him focused on that tool rather than me. There was
no power in this, no true control of my darling boy.
Then one day while I was quietly reading a book, he charged my ankles. They were extended out in front of me, and Henry was walking across the deck between my chair and the deck's edge (no railing). It occurred to me that my jutting legs disrupted his space and forced him to walk closer to the edge. My legs were an obstruction, and even though I was there first, he felt the need to attack instead of walking around me as I've seen the hens do. I refused to run, as I was getting accustomed to doing, and sat still and pushed both of my hands into his chest. Henry didn't try to bite my fingers since he was focused on my ankles. He came at me again, and once again I deflected him with a chest push.
Now, let me make this clear: There's a horrible video of a woman on YouTube who intentionally engaged her rooster in a flying, all out fight, punching at his chest. She thought it'd be fun to demonstrate this. That's NOT what I did with Henry. My hands were simply acting as a wall with no give and only a slight movement toward him. It worked. He stopped, did a quick Spanish dance toward me, which I immediately did back at him with my feet, and then he left.
This was a breakthrough for me. It was a positive interaction that didn't involve running from him and thrusting a tool in his direction. From then on I took care to study his movements and reactions to stimuli immediately around him. A pattern began to reveal itself. Each attack or scream (he has the cutest scream ever) could be attributed to something near him that wasn't to his liking, and the reasons for this were specific. There was nothing vague or "just because" about any of it.
Side note: I can't stand when someone says their rooster does this or that because he's an arsehole and that's what arseholes do. That's a copout, lazy man's answer. Don't give into that thinking.
The most effective response I use when Henry shows aggression, which hardly ever happens anymore, is holding my ground and doing a Spanish dance just like he does. Every single morning I let the flock out of their house, he runs toward me and does a series of dances. I do it back at him and that's that; we're done. He feels the need to remind me, again and again, that the chicken yard is his, and I show him I'm in agreement with him but that I'm allowed to be there, too.
A change in his environment can trigger an attack, but he rarely bites me anymore because I've learned how to immediately react and deflect him with my hands, Spanish dancing even when he's not, and not budging an inch. I do feel that once Henry passed through that strong surge of sexual maturation, he started settling down a bit and became less intense. But I've also observed a direct response to my actions, and now, at 15 months old, I can sit down next to him and read a book without any reaction from him. I can walk out the back door to the deck when he's standing right there on the doormat, and nothing. No reaction.
We've learned how to be around each other. And I can say with certainty that there's one element here that has definitely helped: learning how to hold him. I may have said months ago in the forums that I'm not so sure holding a rooster benefits them. It's important knowing how to pick up your rooster and hold him. But practicing this seemed to be all about how it was helping me, not him. Others have expressed the same opinion.
But now I feel differently.
There's no doubt in my mind that teaching myself how to pick up and hold Henry has instructed
both of us in how to relax
into each other. If that sounds too mushy-talk for you, I get it. But this is exactly what has happened. When I would pick him up, I'd do it all wrong and often end up with a sore finger or two. Then one day I smartened up and studied Henry and his movements as I moved toward him. His reaction never varied; it was always the same, and he seemed mostly focused on my outstretched arms and wiggly sticks at the end.
That's when I realized I needed to equally place my hands on either side of him, following the movement of his body, so that when I pick him up he feels the same pressure on both sides. Nothing is jutting out and scaring him. He used to fight me, so I held his wings in close. But now he totally relaxes and his legs dangle loose. It's a remarkable difference for both of us.
By the way, I'll often gently rub his breast as I'm carrying him to the chicken yard. He shows absolutely no discomfort with this, and I'll stroke his wattle, which he seems to love. I used to do this a lot when he was recovering from a coyote attack.
I'm now totally at peace with this boy and love him more every day. But there's a new problem I'm having to deal with: the husband. Stupidly, I sent him into the hen house for eggs when the chickens were getting ready to roost. All of a sudden I heard a scuffle and a scream and Rich came running out with a bleeding cut on his leg. Henry is more sensitive when he comes in to roost. I can be in there with him no problem, but I'm aware of this and expect some Spanish dancing. Rich went in there blind and came out a wounded soldier.
And then about a month ago, Rich charged across the back deck with a paper grocery bag hanging low to the ground near his legs, just as Henry jumped onto the deck. Henry panicked, screamed and bit my husband again, and this time Rich was livid. He threatened horrible things and wouldn't calm down. Ever since he's been terrified of Henry, with
no willingness to listen to me and get this figured out. The solution is VERY simple. But if you refuse to challenge yourself to move past the fear and instead expect attacks and behave accordingly, you're relationship with your rooster is doomed.
Well, as far as I'm concerned, so is my relationship with my husband. Yes, I'm choosing the rooster over him, but I won't say anymore about that.
So there's hope, people. But it doesn't come in a magic pill. You need to be very patient, and you need to learn how to identify patterns in your rooster's behavior. Also, it's possible that some roosters are simply going to be difficult to work with — and some behaviors are going to be uncorrectable, such as Henry's strong dislike of the dogs. It's a serious problem, and I'm seeing no resolution. Henry will attack them if given the chance, as he should when he fears for his flock, and two of my dogs will attack back, and sadly this has happened more than once.
The solution is to develop a routine on how to keep the dogs and Henry separated. I never let Henry free range when the dogs are outside in their dog yard. He'll stalk the fencing, and if the dogs bark at him, he'll lunge. As long as we remember this system and triple check that Henry has been put inside the chicken yard, everyone's safe. But I did forget recently, and that was nearly a disaster.
As for training them when they're young, I think that's what I've described here. This all started when Henry was no more than three months old. But I will say I've seen noticeable behavior modifications with my three
month-old roosters (Henry's sons). Every time I kneel down next to them, the little flock flies up to my arms and legs and perches. When they do this, I stroke the roosters' chest feathers. They squeak and squeal and sometimes jump down, but they're noticeably doing this less and less. Like, really: These teeny Henries are indeed responding to my touch.
One baby rooster is more dominant than the others, so the personality factor and sexual maturation will play a role in how they develop. It's encouraging and very sweet, though, and almost seems to have a calming effect, but I think it's more a matter of them learning how to tolerate my touch. I'm not so sure how this will translate as they grow older: Will this have an effect on helping to shape shift their aggression to something more gentle? I can't really say since I haven't done this before. But there's no doubt they're allowing me to do this, whereas a week ago or so they'd simply squeak and fly away.
Hopefully what I've written helps present another side to working with roosters. They're wonderful creatures and so worth keeping if you're allowed to have roosters and can figure out how to work with them.
Cheerios.
