I’m trying to process it. And note how parallel my own blithe actions and their consequences are to human actions in this world. It burns and our governments do little to change. Our conveniences and wars and profits dominate the conversations. As do six cock-a-doodle-dos. Once again, I managed, with a broody hen’s help, to hatch a ratio of 3:1 boys to girls. And Elmer and Fonzie are reaching that age when blood will be in the air.
Fonzie is a Crevecoeur chicken, an endangered breed that is on the critical list of the Livestock Conservancy breed list. He’s a stunning bird and gaining confidence daily. Or maybe he’s just stand offish, too noble and French to be bothered by us lesser beings. An alternative view: Crevecoeur —translated to mean broken heart—are peaceable birds even if they do look like the devil with their bright red, horn-like “v” comb. Perhaps, the reason Fonzie stays apart is he doesn’t want conflict.
Elmer is a sweetie (so far). He runs around and away and yet when I touch him, he doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike the three “babies” who shriek bloody murder any time I pick one of them up.
Schtude? He has mellowed at the ripe old age of 2 1/2 and joins the hens in being stunned by all the testosterone flying about.
No one wants roos. There are farms who say they will “take” them. Just drop ‘em off. No worries. But I suspect a soup pot would be in their future and I don’t want that to happen to “my” roos.
And so. We don’t have enough hens to go around—ten per rooster; yes that would mean sixty— and this is a repeat of 2014. It is embarrassing and irresponsible, how I say one thing and do another. Handwringing at the writing on the wall. Sound familiar? It’s what we are doing in regard to climate change. Every single citizen of the world should be marching in the streets. Protesting. Demanding our governments do something. So many, many are. I’m not. But once the cocks start their pecking and attacking, then I will have no choice but to take action. In the meantime, I take on a hopeful attitude. Everything will be okay. I tell myself I can keep them all, and that the next decade will shower us with change. Great, unfathomable changes that we might, or might not, survive.