Why The Rooster Had To Go

Being greeted by the sun is one of the best things at the farm.  It’s not that the sun didn’t rise in other places that I’ve lived – it’s just that most of the time I didn’t take the time to notice it.  Slowing the pace of my life down so that I can be present in the moment has been a true gift.

Sunrise at the farm

Things aren’t always perfect at the farm, however.  One of our pullets from last spring turned out to be a rooster.  He’s a beautiful white Brahma.  I watched him go from a little chick that we thought was a hen to a gangly teenager whose attempts at crowing were ludicrous, to a mature rooster who watched over the hens, making little clucking noises to bring them close when he’d found a particularly delightful treat. 

Mr. Rooster

When he pecked a two-year old on the back (not a life threatening injury, but clearly traumatic as she remembers it to this day), we chalked it up to a number of things – he felt threatened because she was running toward him and the other chickens, her size made her vulnerable, etc., and it was decided that he would be on probation to see if the behavior persisted.

Like most farms, we get new chickens every year.  For reasons that I don’t understand, the rooster despised one of the older hens, a black and white Barred Rock.  There were others of that breed in his group and in the group of our older hens, but he only had an issue with her.  She never backed down when he challenged her and I loved that about her. 

As the younger hens matured, it was difficult to tell them from the older hens and one night, the older hen got in the coop with the rooster.  When I went to the henhouse in the morning, she was badly injured and despite my best efforts, succumbed from her injuries within a short time.

The unseasonably warm weather was a blessing as I went to the back of our property to dig a hole to bury her.  While I was digging I wondered what could drive an animal to inflict so much hate and violence that another animal would die.  Surely she cried out in pain – was he oblivious to her suffering?  And why did he hate her?  What was it about her that piqued his wrath?  She was a chicken, he was a chicken, different breeds, but so what?

As I continued to dig, I realized that we humans are no different.  When my oldest son was a toddler, we were riding a city bus.  There was another Mom and her son in the seat in front of us.  The two boys were playing with each other, peeking over the seat and ultimately they held hands and the other Mom and I smiled at each other.  The memory of a brown hand holding a white one is etched in my memory – an Instagram moment had that existed thirty years ago.  Even though that Mom and I didn’t speak to each other, I felt a surge of happiness that this new generation would be the one that is color blind, that all the anger and hate and violence would be in the past, that we could all live together in peace and harmony.  (Yeah, sometimes I get all Pollyanna like that.

Both of my boys had friends of all kinds, all kinds!, and I continued to feel encouraged. That’s why it’s been so difficult over the past few months to see, hear, and read all the harsh comments, families and friends divided over differences of opinion and beliefs and violence, more violence and hatred. 

The rooster no longer lives here at the farm.  While I do hope that he’s doing well in his new home, there’s no place here for someone to act the way he did, both with his fellow hens and the kids that play in the yard.  Bullying, hatred, intolerance, exerting power and control, and acting out violently will not be tolerated.  Now, if only there was something I could do to help humans understand that.