Roid the Rooster
April 6th, 2013
There are so many stories I want to tell lately that I just can't stand it! Today I have to write about Roid the Rooster.
Roid was supposed to be a hen. Back in August I picked out many baby chicks which I thought were to be hens. I really didn't want to deal with any more roosters since I ended up with three the last time and the fights amongst them just didn't sit well with me.
Anyway, we pick up a few Rhode Island Reds, a couple of Ameraucanas (the one's that lay the green eggs), and a couple of Black Sex Links. Don't even ask me how they came up with that last breed, I really don't want to know.
The baby chicks grew and grew, but one Rhode Island Red in particular was exceptionally bigger. We decided to name her Roid after steroids, since she was so big. Well, a couple of months later, you could see by the comb and wattle, that we definitely had ourselves a rooster. Plus he started to act like a male anyway. (I won't go there either) Okay, I will for a minute. I will just use the words dominate, territorial, and grouchy. ;)
It's been about 8 months now, and boy, do we have the biggest baddest rooster in Collier County! Roid is the meanest, proudest, and most territorial rooster I have ever seen. The kids and I can't even go outside anymore because the land in which we all preside on, is now his.
Every morning I have a routine. And that of course includes taking care of my barnyard animals. I head out to the chicken coop to feed them and release them out to the yard. Yes, I am the type to allow free roaming, I cannot stand anything caged up. Just ask my husband, he will tell you all about it! (Nah, don't do that, that just comes with issues).
Once I approach the coop, I now have to think of what I need in my hand for protection. Whether it's a rake nearby or my shoe, as long as it's something to protect me from big bad Roid.
Weeks ago I was unprepared and was literally attacked over and over. I good puncture wound to the leg from those sharp spurs was quite unexpected. Thankfully my van was there with the door open as I ran and jumped in as fast as I could, driving off in fear. Roid followed too, chasing the van trying to jump up to the window as he continued his little rampage. Ugh!!
That's just one incident. Another one is when I had asked my Mom some time ago to come out and take care of the animals as I was somewhere off on vacation. That didn't go over to well. She will never do it again. She was chased down by Roid, throwing shoes, arms flinging, and running like a chicken with her head cut off! (Pun intended) Boy, I wish I could have been there to video tape that!
Roid is one bad--- bird. He pretends like he's pecking the ground eating, yet he's really just watching your every move. Do you think we are that stupid Roid? We can tell you are faking it! You're not eating anything!
Just strolling down to the mailbox can be a challenge too. As I walk, he'll catch a glimpse of me, and suddenly he's 20 feet closer. As I continue to walk, I slowly peer over my shoulder,and before you know it, he's in full charge coming my way!
"Voila!" I say as I turn around at him, slashing my mighty palm frond! He stops and sees it, knowing I will now conquer him to no end! I continue to make my way to the mailbox and suddenly I am blasted with a shrilling Cockadoodle Doo!
-THE END-
There are so many stories I want to tell lately that I just can't stand it! Today I have to write about Roid the Rooster.
Roid was supposed to be a hen. Back in August I picked out many baby chicks which I thought were to be hens. I really didn't want to deal with any more roosters since I ended up with three the last time and the fights amongst them just didn't sit well with me.
Anyway, we pick up a few Rhode Island Reds, a couple of Ameraucanas (the one's that lay the green eggs), and a couple of Black Sex Links. Don't even ask me how they came up with that last breed, I really don't want to know.
The baby chicks grew and grew, but one Rhode Island Red in particular was exceptionally bigger. We decided to name her Roid after steroids, since she was so big. Well, a couple of months later, you could see by the comb and wattle, that we definitely had ourselves a rooster. Plus he started to act like a male anyway. (I won't go there either) Okay, I will for a minute. I will just use the words dominate, territorial, and grouchy. ;)
It's been about 8 months now, and boy, do we have the biggest baddest rooster in Collier County! Roid is the meanest, proudest, and most territorial rooster I have ever seen. The kids and I can't even go outside anymore because the land in which we all preside on, is now his.
Every morning I have a routine. And that of course includes taking care of my barnyard animals. I head out to the chicken coop to feed them and release them out to the yard. Yes, I am the type to allow free roaming, I cannot stand anything caged up. Just ask my husband, he will tell you all about it! (Nah, don't do that, that just comes with issues).
Once I approach the coop, I now have to think of what I need in my hand for protection. Whether it's a rake nearby or my shoe, as long as it's something to protect me from big bad Roid.
Weeks ago I was unprepared and was literally attacked over and over. I good puncture wound to the leg from those sharp spurs was quite unexpected. Thankfully my van was there with the door open as I ran and jumped in as fast as I could, driving off in fear. Roid followed too, chasing the van trying to jump up to the window as he continued his little rampage. Ugh!!
That's just one incident. Another one is when I had asked my Mom some time ago to come out and take care of the animals as I was somewhere off on vacation. That didn't go over to well. She will never do it again. She was chased down by Roid, throwing shoes, arms flinging, and running like a chicken with her head cut off! (Pun intended) Boy, I wish I could have been there to video tape that!
Roid is one bad--- bird. He pretends like he's pecking the ground eating, yet he's really just watching your every move. Do you think we are that stupid Roid? We can tell you are faking it! You're not eating anything!
Just strolling down to the mailbox can be a challenge too. As I walk, he'll catch a glimpse of me, and suddenly he's 20 feet closer. As I continue to walk, I slowly peer over my shoulder,and before you know it, he's in full charge coming my way!
"Voila!" I say as I turn around at him, slashing my mighty palm frond! He stops and sees it, knowing I will now conquer him to no end! I continue to make my way to the mailbox and suddenly I am blasted with a shrilling Cockadoodle Doo!
-THE END-
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