Well, we’ve got several photo sessions out of the way. As always, April has a pretty damn impressive spread set up out at the barn, and the pictures look adorable.
There’s a 30 minute break here before the next appointment shows up, so I’m gonna take a minute to tell you about how our morning started. Cuz it wasn’t pretty.
Let me back up. Yesterday, April called me to tell me she found one of her roosters behind the tool shed, and he was pretty bloodied and beaten. Bottom line, he got his ass whipped by the other rooster.
We didn’t know that they were both roosters when we got them as babies. Once we figured it out, they seemed to get along okay, so we weren’t too concerned about them fighting. Unfortunately it seems, yesterday shit got real. And even more unfortunately, one of them is a LOT bigger than the other one.
Picture in your mind, Muhammed Ali fighting….Steve Urkel. It was pretty frigging lopsided.
April saved Urkel, scooped him up and took him back to the coop to recover. She was sad, but me, in all my chicken farming glory said, “he’ll be fine. Just leave him in there to recover for a bit.
Fast forward to this morning. We let the dogs out, I put the coffee on, get bundled up and head outside to get the last bits ready for April’s busy day of Christmas pictures.
I’m out at the barn when I hear blood curdling screams. It’s Emma. Oh damn. She’s screaming, really screaming. At Vegas, the Australian shepherd. “He’s EATING THE CHICKEN!!! Vegas, STOP! STONEYYYY!!!!”
Vegas is now laying on the porch looking as innocent as Sylvester after he just tried to eat Tweety Bird. He’s got a telltale red ring around his mouth like Gracee when she’s been eating a cherry Popsicle. Except something tells me that’s not cherry flavoring around his lips. Crap.
I make my way to the coop to find….an ugly scene. The chickens head is gone. Completely. And his neck. It’s all gone. There’s just a wide open hole looking down into his body cavity. Emma is beside herself. April is now outside, and needless to say, she is less than pleased. I reach down and grab the chicken up from his roost, and he’s stiff as a board. Well, that’s actually good news. He’s been dead a while, and the dogs just got outside. So they didn’t kill him. They simply ate his head AFTER he was dead. Sometimes you’ve got to be pleased with small victories.
But then, the other rooster comes walking up looking like Carrie when they dump that bucket of blood over her head at the prom. He’s covered in blood. And it’s not his. Awwww damn it. He killed the injured rooster during the night. He’s a straight up, stone cold assassin. He even looks proud. He’s crowing and strutting around the yard like he’s Billy Badass. The good news is, I don’t have to worry about having the roosters fight anymore. The bad news is….well, I’ve got a bloodied headless rooster.
However, I’m nothing if not an opportunist, and I took this opportunity to teach Emma some biology. I am an animal science major, after all. So I had Emma come over to me and we looked down inside of his body. I showed her the different parts of his heart, and his lungs and gizzards.
So, I’m glad to say that Urkel’s death was not in vain. We used his body for the betterment of science.
And also, I want Emma to have plenty of things to talk about someday when she is in therapy.