I will probably offend a more tenderhearted chicken-keeper and perhaps shouldn't tell this story but perhaps it shows what kind of trouble one can get into with too many young roosters. It was a good number of years ago and maybe others will sympathize with my, then, youthful mistakes . . .
I was living out in the country and had a nice little laying flock of 5 hens and a lovely Ameraucana rooster (or, what I have since learned to call an Ameraucana rooster
). They weren't my first flock, I'd had chickens before as well as growing up with them so I should have known better. The hens were laying well, peace was the order in the farmyard
.
The neighbor had 9 young rooster that he wanted to give to me. Their father was a very big Leghorn but the mother was some kind of bantam/standard cross. The little roos were wildly varied and absolutely gorgeous -- but still, quite immature. They were also
skinny.
I knew that I really had little use for them other than to fatten them up for the table. Still, Dad wanted to raise some bantams in his retirement and I had hopes that he would take 1 or 2 of the roos. The mother bantam's line was from my brother's place so this was all-in-the-family sort of thing and the neighbor was just kind of caught up in it and giving back (palming off
) these critters since my brother down the road, didn't want them.
Anywaaaay. My little flock free-ranged for a few hours everyday and I thought I could allow these new birds out with them. Everything went smoothly for several weeks then, I couldn't get the little roos back in the chicken house in the evenings. They wanted to roost in the Douglas fir beside the barn
. Okay, all well and good . . .
The young birds sure
weren't putting on much weight and I began to wonder how this idea I had of dressing them out for the table was going to turn out. Things began to get a little chaotic around the farmyard as the little guys got older and began to fight with the hens for a place in the pecking order
. Quickly, my laying hens went from 4 or 5 eggs a day to 1 or 2!
One day during some altercation or another, the old rooster flew across the barnyard to intercede in the mayhem and
crashed into the trunk of the fir tree! Dang! That gotta hurt! I figured his days were numbered. He'd either kill himself or end up so badly injured trying to
police his domain that the 9 young roosters would gang up on him and beat the living stuffin's outta him
! It wouldn't be long!
Early the very next morning, I let the hens & old guy out and within a matter of minutes -- all H**L broke loose!! That was all I could take and I grabbed the little 22! I wasn't even within sight of any neighbors and it was early on a Sunday morning - there was no danger to anyone except the young roosters in me using the gun. Didn't waste a bullet or shed a tear . . .
Steve