There is no doubt that Henry was a beautiful bird, and this picture of him, taken only a few months ago, showed a manageable rooster. He wasn't crowing 24/7, he wasn't attacking the chickens on a regular basis and he wasn't attacking me.
About a month ago I went out into the yard and squatted down to say hello to the chickens. They have been raised to be friendly, I have spent a lot of time with them, and they loved to run over and say hello. They were all in the process of doing this when suddenly I was struck by something and nearly fell over, when I realized that the rooster was attacking me. I stood up and managed to kick at him to keep him back, and I experienced real fear when he wouldn't stop! Of course, I upset everyone with my yelling and kicking, and they all eventually ran away from the crazy woman! Once you have been attacked by something, you have residual fear, but I tried to employ logic. I was still bigger than he was, and he was still a BIRD! Keeping these two things in mind, I would do my chicken things and it seemed as though we had drawn up a truce -- you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. But this also created a division between me and the chickens I had raised, and that made me mad. Whenever one came near me, Henry would dodge over and flap his wings and shake his head and intimate that he was going to go at me. So I stopped communing with my chickens, and tried to tell myself that this was more natural -- a rooster protects his flock, people aren't supposed to be part of the equation, and well maybe I needed to learn that.
I did, however, miss them coming up and pecking at my boots and looking for treats, but ahh, well, what are you going to do. This went on for a bit, and then Henry started to become a bit crazed. As soon as I would let them out, he would start jumping any chicken he could get close to, like a crazed teenager, which I guess he was, but then one of the chickens looked as though her feathers were being affected. But I couldn't get ANY where near her, because he said no. Again, I reasoned with myself, googled overbearing roosters and determined that he had just come into full maturity (as noted by his very pink legs) and that hopefully he would calm down, eventually. Advice ranged from grab him by the legs and walk around with him, to putting him in the stew pot. The latter became more and more appealing as every time I went near the coop, he came charging at me. To clean the coop, I would have to lure him into the run by offering up myself as bait, and then armed with a pitchfork I'd manage to get him in, lock him up, and then shudder as he banged himself against the small door inside the coop while I cleaned up. He was CUJO THE ROOSTER, a Steven King character in the flesh, and he was making me miserable.
Then I was in the coop while the chickens were far away across the lawn and carrying out the water container to change it, when he came out of nowhere and rushed me. I had the big water thing, and I swung that at him, but he kept doing it. I was unprepared for an attack because I thought he was so far away, and I, at one point to get a rest, locked myself in the chicken run to get away from him! And that was when I realized that I was in an abusive relationship, and it needed to stop.
I have never had any tolerance for people who talk about their abusive relationships and know what they are experiencing, and yet stay in them. And yet, here I was, doing exactly that! I was making excuses for him, oh well, he is a ROOSTER after all, and that is how rooster's behave. And then I would think, well I am sure I can change him, we'll get through this rough patch and then things will be just great. I was an enabler, and I was working around his abusive patterns, not hanging with my chickens because he didn't like it, not cleaning the coop as often as I like because it is so stressful having him charge at me, and rushing in to check for eggs with a pitchfork in hand, waiting for him to have at me. And then I thought, how will I get through the winter with him? Now I was afraid to go into the coop to open up the door to the outside, because he was coming at me. Now I had to dress up in boots, jeans and gloves in order to protect myself, as opposed to running out in my nightgown as I had been doing. And the past week I was begging Charlie to let them out, because I was afraid!
It had to stop. I kept telling myself that I hadn't asked for a rooster, it had been thrown into my order, and it was quite clear that he wasn't enhancing anyone's lives! I have no need to raise my own chicks from eggs, and that is the ONLY reason one needs to have a rooster around. And the premise that he was protecting the chickens while out free ranging seems a tad ridiculous when I realized he was protecting them FROM ME! And my good lord, he cock-a-doodle doo-ed all the livelong day. In fact, as I sit here, the silence is freaky. I sort of liked it at the beginning, but I would find myself screaming out the window, shut up Henry, no one wants to hear you. This is not normal!
So I told Peter that I was in an abusive relationship and that he needed to come to my assistance! I was riddled with guilt that I seemed to have failed as a chicken parent, he was a beautiful bird and it seemed such a shame ... and I tossed and turned at night trying to decide if I could personally kill him and I determined that I could not.
Even as I watched Peter go out to the coop to catch him, I thought, well, maybe I just need to do what he did, and kick him around and show him who is boss, because Henry did back down pretty quickly and when Peter finally did catch him, he settled right down in his arms. Even then, I thought well maybe ... and yet, I didn't open up my mouth as Peter climbed onto the gator and drove slowly down into the lower field. Because in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do. Even if I personally couldn't do it.
First I went out to the coop and calmed the chickens down, as the catching of a rooster can be a bit traumatic! Then I went out onto the back deck, and through the haze of the foggy morning could see Peter standing over the body, just watching. Then I saw him pick it up and walk it into the woods. We had both determined we didn't have the stomach or desire to eat him. And as I watched all that, I realized I am only in this for the eggs. I had originally thought that I might like to get some birds for eating purposes, but there are no processing facilities around, really, anymore, as big government doesn't want you eating your own food, and well, I'm just not going to be able to kill chickens. At least not yet. Peter came back and I asked him if he was horrified, and he said yes, but then he said that next time he would know what to do, that a chicken's neck is pretty tough! So who knows, maybe it's something you have to work into.
I spent a little while feeling pretty sick to my stomach, and very much like I'd done the wrong thing. But I was in an abusive relationship and I needed to get out of it. I am sure every morning as I go out to my coop to let out the chickens and don't have to fear a crazed bird coming at me, it will become quite clear that we did the right thing.
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