Though their plumage was gorgeous and I would have loved to see it grow out all the way, I'm not terribly sad the Rhode Island Red roosters have moved farther south. They are now living at the Ayre family's place, and I'm pretty certain that they'll be allowed to live a long, happy life. And what if they don't? I will have had nothing to do with their deaths, and I won't have to eat them. I was getting a little nervous whenever John talked about how we should use them to make chicken soup. My chicken butchering rules are that 1) I don't want to eat anything that we've raised, and 2) I don't want to set up any sort of chicken butchering operation at our place.
So the Brahma rooster rules the roost, but I'm pretty sure he's still not at the top of the pecking order. I was never aware of how many idiomatic expressions we use that are related to chickens and their system of hierarchy. I have a much better understanding now of how a mother hen might act and what it means to be hen-pecked. And I am getting the sense that every chicken owner knows that look chickens give people when they are unhappy about something -- on the "backyard chicken" website that I've found, everyone talks about getting the stinkeye.
I know it well already.
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