Roosters

Well goodness. So many of our first season hen-raised babies ended up to be roosters. Dang it. Over the past few weeks they started crowing (which I have to say is the cutest thing ever, I love hearing that initial
cough-cough-eeee-er-oooooh!cough-cough
sound they make when they first learn the craft of le crow) and more importantly they began ganging up on the pullets and hens which just turns me sour. We have two gentlemen roosters named Rowdy and Roo who are a great team and take care of their gals and are just general good guys. They're keepers. Which left us with SIX (yes six!) juvenile roosters to deal with. One was given away to a friend who needed a full sized rooster, one may still go in a bit so he was saved (ok so he's the one we couldn't catch) and the other four were caught {hilariously} and quickly and humanely culled and turned into fried chicken and gravy for a crowd the first night followed by stewed chicken the next. And you know what? It was great!

In an attempt to use every part of the birds I saved some feathers for crafts and we even tried chicken foot soup thanks to my mom who volunteered to boil and strip the feet. Ummm, won't be doing THAT again. The bones are simmering for good bone broth and the hens are back to their regular, peaceful routine with their two great protectors. Life returns to normal, just like that.