Thursday, April 19, 2012

It's a testosterone thing

Yesterday Buck and the ladies had been given several piles of treats and nutrition in different parts of the yard, so all the complaining and yelling that was going on seemed baseless to me.
Barbie kept getting on the wrong side of the house, and ran around in circles muttering "chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck - GAWK, chuck, chuck...."
Buck stood on top of a glacial erratic to make himself even taller than his towering height of 2' and crowed incessantly.
 It took about a half an hour for all the flock to find one another and go lie down in the sun dappled dirt to rest up and get over it.
Several times, I went out with more leaves or fruit or grain and they all ran over, trying to trip me while I distributed largesse.
Buck then would not let me leave, but circled around me jabbing at bits of stuff on the ground keeping one eye on me the while.  Backing away from him seemed to raise his ire.  "No, you don't " he said.
"I thought we had an understanding about those shoes"  he said.
Being in no mood myself, I scooped him up and brought him in the house for some photos.

It only took a couple of minutes out of his schedule, but when I let him go he tore away as fast as I've seen him run to his hens.  He did not bother to circle them or drop a wing or court them in any way.  He just jumped on one as though she were a bicycle.  Then he jumped on another.  Then he had his strut back.
So:  Chickens have comfort sex too.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Glad to hear from you, but criticisms will be ignored. It's the beauty of the web. I will answer all friendly remarks. Buck handles the rest.