The story about a little chicken named Fuzzy-from birth to death...

Fuzzy was born a little White Sultan chick in a hatchary and shoved into a big cardboard box with his many unrelated brothers and sisters. He was a small, timid little guy, who only wanted to hide behind his standerd sized family.

Fuzzy had an impact on humans far greater than most of the chicks. He was a warm, cuddly chick. And though he didn't want to check it out, the world was never large enough for him. He wanted to be the bravest, he wanted to do everything...

As Fuzzy grew, he made friends with others similar to him. Patty, his best friend, was a White Crested Black Polish bantam. She also had a special relationship with humans. Together the two led a life any chicken would dream of-nice breakfast and freerange all day, starting first thing in the morning, long naps in the sun in the afternoon, and a warm family to huddle with at night. The two expanded their group, taking with them a Buff Silkie named Picasso.

On most days, Fuzzy would hurt his foot, for unexplainable reasons. He would bleed, so forth came his name: Fuzzy Fur Foot. Only one of his feet was kept in good condition. The right one.

The brave little cockerel would stand by and watch other roosters try to become the leader, fighting each other to pieces, in some instances. He wondered why anyone would want that life, why not the simple one where they could do whatever they want? Who cares about running a flock? Why did it even matter?

And so Fuzzy grew even more into a a full fledged male. He kept his friends close, and his allys closer. He watched many rooster leave the group, because of the humans who were sick of the fighting. Fuzzy became scared for himself and his family. He wondered if he'd have to fight someday soon, and leave the group because of it!

The small rooster took Patty as his mate, and both lived happily amongst the others, watching for the time they knew was coming. Fuzzy started crowing out of courage. He knew it was time he protected his family; for they may be the only one he'd ever have.

Months passed and Fuzzy never left. The humans deemed him worthy of staying, and he led the flock with only two other roosters at his side. One day, Picasso went broody, and hatched Patty's and Fuzzy's little chick-a girl named Tosca. She had her father's yellow eyes.

One cold autumn day, Fuzzy wasn't feeling right at all. He began to sneeze and wheeze. Patty grew worried and got the other roosters who crowed for him in grieving. The humans found little Fuzzy, alive but broken- roosting in the coop. He was taken into the humans' house, and kept in a small dog crate. His family was never allowed to visit.

Every day he'd listen to the humans bicker their banter about what to do with him. It was dicided he'd get medicated until he was better-because he could never be replaced. The humans knew it was his foot that led in an infection. Fuzzy was suffering from a Respiratory Infection that needed to get better. And soon.

Days passed on the meds, and the rooster started to heal. The humans thought it was time for him to leave the crate, but as soon as he was off the meds, he got sick again. This time the medication wasn't working for him. Something had to be done...

On the last night,-ironcially the only night the humans didn't come to check on him-Fuzzy was very weak. He went to sleep near a feeding cup, unable to roost on the stick that was there for him, and his head got stuck in it. The brave little rooster tried to free his head-he tried to claw his feet-he tried to crow his once mighty crow, but he couldn't do any of it. No one was coming to save him. He drifted off into a deep sleep.

And never woke up.

Fuzzy was pronounced dead on December 5th, 2008. The roosters crowed mournfuly and Patty cackled with pain. Tosca didn't get to know her father long, but she still knew he was gone, even as a baby. She was his living legacy.

The rooster was burried in the woods, his favorite place. The stone above his grave was intitled: 'The Greatest Treasure In a Sea of Gems'. Every day his family would visit him.

Brave little Fuzzy will always be remembered. He was the geatest leader the flock would have, always having the top influence of this big, big, world of his. And when his family called, he wouldn't be far. He'd always be there. Forever.

---
Sorry it's so long! I hope you enjoy! Every bit is true; aside from the knowledge most chickens wouldn't be able to really recall.

 

Thank you. We'll miss him, he's the first chicken we've lost and we've had this flock for almost two years already. I think of him every time I see his daughter. =/

 

Thank you everyone! It's good to know even total strangers would care. He was the sweetest little guy. In total: we've had 15 roosters over a period of almost two years. Fuzz was the only one that who allow me to hold him. At one point I trained him to come to me and even crow on command.

Jessi-I have pics somewhere, more of Patty than Fuzzy. I'm just horrible at posting them online, though. If anyone can direct me to any directions for applying pics to a page, I'd be in your debt! I'll give it a go. I just started on this site a few days ago-but I really love it. I like to think of it as my chicken support group.

Sadly, Fuzzy was never one for playing 'model'. He'd run away from anything machine like when given the chance. I think the only good picture (If you'd consider it good at all!) was when he was in the dog crate. I'll see what I can get you all! =P