A little bird must have told Pat that it’s gender wasn’t obvious, because last night I caught Pat acting like, well, a dirty bird.
I thought one of the hens was being attacked, and truthfully she was. Bless her heart. Poor girl wasn’t having any part of Pat’s shenanigans.
Pat will be leaving us tomorrow. Don’t worry, we won’t eat him. We just can’t have roosters in the city. He’ll be going back to his roots in the country.
I’ll let you know how that goes…since I’ll be catching a rooster by myself, putting him in a dog crate & toting him in my mini-van, with 2 kids. On the upside, he shouldn’t get sick like a motion sick dog- so maybe it’ll be an odor-less commute.
Do you have any funny stories about keeping chickens in the city?