From a life in the corporate world to a small farm. My new work colleagues eat grass or lay eggs. I've got a lot to learn about things that just seem to happen when nature becomes your new boss.
Friday, 11 December 2015
Hands up who's a rooster...
It's time to sort the men from the boys. Or rather sort the hens from the roosters. We've found foster homes for at least half of our newly hatched chicks whom we now refer to as the teenagers. They come from different batches but have all bonded together to form an almost poultry posse of energy and attitude. They roam in a gang during the day and at night now with a shortage of bedroom perches they sleep on their verandah under the stars long after the oldies have gone up to bed. The problem arises when human foster parents want to select chickens by gender. We don't ask a lot of questions at this age of chicken and it's actually really hard to tell by looking at them. Some have the makings of a decent red crest, others have a distinct higher feathered tail and some just have a bossy attitude. Could be anyone, or anything, really. So other than conducting a detailed survey we are just going to have to wing it!! Sorry folks you get what you are given. We did and ended up with three beautiful roosters who all have their designated jobs and do the company proud. Cyril (pictured) is Chief Executive Rooster and holds his directorship with great importance, Lewis, more deputy like a long serving CFO who would love the top job but will never get it, just works and works to the best of his ability. Amy (yes, got that wrong), well he's a on the fence so to speak and just hangs at the back looking cool. So without a proper selection process the team will be soon off to their new homes. Hope the view from the new verandah is just as good.