Billy the Rooster

It's a love story that I want to share. It's too sweet to not be told. He is suave, cool, and a real Romeo and I can see why the chicks love him. By his strut, I can tell he knows it. I watch him while he's watching me. We have that eye contact thing going on. Every now and then he gives me that one-eyed side look as he pumps out his chest. That look that all chicks just love.

It seems my rooster Billy is a real barnyard Casanova.

Being home during the pandemic, I spent a lot of time out in my garden area where Billy's coop is. I tend to be a little over protective of the old guy because he's had a few close predator encounters so I keep him closer to the house. The garden area has also become home to four stray hens who decided to stick around and made themselves right at home. They roost up in the eucalyptus trees at night and become a part of Billy's small harem during the day.

I'm use to the occasional stray cat showing up or the discovery of a litter of baby kittens but having four stray hens show up was a little unusal. It was like they had been pecking their way down the road in search for a new place to live. They found us. They were welcome to stay and they mingled right in with the rest of the girls, just refused to go in the coop at dusk.

As I watch Billy court and dance with his fancy steps and his cock-a-doodle-doo, I can clearly see why the ladies love him. He's groomed his tail feathers to prefection. Those hens followed him around the barnyard with devotion. He was no longer just Billy the Rooster, he was the man, the dude with the dance moves, of John Travolta. While the country was in a shelter in place due to the pandemic, I; was learning the ways of a chicken.

When I clean out the coops, I always add fresh clean shavings mixed in with some straw and spread them around, making it nice and comfortable for my feathered crew and it keeps them warm at night. But to Billy its more than just a nest as he goes inside and works his little barnyard magic. All I see is shavings being kicked around. Occasionally he will hop out and flap his wings and lets out a doodle doo. I can hear the roosters down the road answer him. Then he goes back in and once more I see shavings getting kicked around and I wonder, what in the world is that rooster doing in there? I thought I had made a really nice nest for him, but Billy had other plans.

He needed a nest to impress.

Soon as he's done, he hops out, gives me that side eyed chicken look, busts out his chest and spreads his wings and lets out a cock-a-doodle-dooooo that even the Highland cows next door moo like they know what's about to happen next. As Billy struts off to round up his harem I take a peek inside the coop to see what all that fuss was about and why my nesting skills wasn't to his standards.

Billy had built a nest that was perfectly round, and about three inches deep and ready for what would become a love nest for his haram of chicks. It was perfection and Billy was proud of it. I would never look at Billy the same. He was no longer just an old rooster pecking around the barnyard with a bunch of cackling hens. He was royalty, he was the king of his domain.

All this time I just thought rooster's do their thing, the hen lays an egg, and off they go scratching and pecking throughout the day. Nope. It's this whole ritual barnyard dance that includes Billy showing off his boudoir. Chickens have a soft chatter that I'm sure is Billy's way of convincing them to have his egg. He's a smooth operator that old rooster. I have to give the old guy some credit, for that dance today is my omelet tomorrow.