Welcome, Ralph!

by Pa Rock

Chicken Rancher

Rosie and I were up early this morning, like we are every morning, in order to feed the "damn cats" (Rosie's perspective) their breakfast and to tend to the baby chicks and get them into their outdoor pen for the day.  After those early morning chores are complete is when I usually sit down at the computer and give some thought to what I want to blog about.  

But today we took a detour from the daily routine.  It's Saturday, which is the day that local agrarians with too much time on their hands convene on a couple of roadside lots just south of town and hold a "swap meet" - and event where small livestock is bought and sold and old timers sit around in lawn chairs telling each other how hard they work.  

There weren't too many sellers today, and selections were limited.  One guy had a couple of dozen young turkeys, and another had a big cage of baby ducks.  There were two rabbit does with large litters of baby bunnies, and just a few chickens of varying descriptions.  I was looking for a rooster, and there were  only two at the entire event.  A nine-month-old Buff Orphington who had been stuffed into a bird cage and looked very miserable, and a young banty who was in a large cage along with a banty hen.  They were obviously a couple.

A young man of about fifteen summers was the lord and master of both roosters.  I assumed he was there earning money for his eventual college education, and when he told me how much he wanted for the roosters, I further assumed he was planning on attending either Harvard or Yale.    He was asking $10 for the big boy in the bird cage, and $30 for the pair of bantys.

I was looking for a big rooster - an angry bastard who would put the fear of God into the three (and sometimes four) tomcats who call The Roost their home - a fearsome fowl who would offer some protection to the young chickens who will soon be turned loose on the yard.  Buff Orphingtons are large domestic chickens who are not especially well known for being warriors.

But, I felt bad for the big yellow bird cramped into a cage meant for a parakeet, and the kid was obviously headed to college - or prison - so I coughed up ten bucks and liberated the rooster.

I named him Ralph, and he is currently exploring the vicinity around the coop.

The cats have discreetly disappeared.

And Rosie could care less.

Welcome to The Roost, Ralph.   The days of being stuffed in cages are over.  You're home now!