I got to the park early Saturday morning and headed down toward the lake, hoping I'd see the big flock of juncos that usually feed in the tall weeds near the water. The juncos continue to boycott my feeders, but at least they let me enjoy them on neutral territory. As I got near the lake I saw something moving in the grass up ahead. It was white with a vivid spot of red. My first thought was Oh my god, that's a chicken, but I immediately contradicted myself. It couldn't possibly be a chicken. What the hell would a chicken be doing miles from the nearest house? It was probably a bag of trash some lazy fisherman left behind.
But no, it was, in fact, a chicken--a white Leghorn rooster, to be precise. He was pecking around in the grass, but he seemed a little uncomfortable and disoriented. He fled when I approached, but didn't go far, just hunkered down about 20 feet away. I doubt he made his way to the lake by himself. Domestic ducks and guinea fowl will wander far from home, but as far as I know, chickens generally don't. If I'd seen him closer to town, I'd assume he had escaped from one of the Mennonite farmers who sell chickens on the roadside, but somebody must have deliberately carried him to such a remote place. Most likely, he was nabbed out of someone's yard and dumped, either as a prank, or maybe by an irate neighbor who was tired of his crowing.
I was certain he'd be a coyote's dinner last night, but this morning he was still there, in almost exactly the same spot. He seemed even more freaked out than yesterday. He was hunched down in the grass and kept absolutely still until I was almost on him, then he ran a good distance. I noticed he'd lost his tail feathers, so maybe he had encountered a predator and escaped.
It's a sad predicament for the bird. He's pretty much doomed. Even if I could catch him, which is doubtful, he'd be no safer at my house than in the park. There are coyotes all around my place, not to mention the free-roaming neighborhood dogs. If he's still there in the morning, I may ask the park staff if they can rescue him, though I don't know how interested they'll be. A stray chicken doesn't rate very high on the sympathy meter.
(The photo is a Leghorn hen--wrong gender, but I like her attitude. You can see some Leghorn cocks at My Pet Chicken.com.)
6 comments:
Poor, poor bastard.
It is SO sad when you see how utterly helpless they are.
Painful.
Now I KNOW we must be related-
You and I , I mean.
Maybe, the bird ;-)
A group of Mexicans who live up the road from us keep roosters at their place. They may have gotten in the habit of keeping fighting cocks in the old country, but these are just ordinary roosters as far as I know. Whatever they are, they crow magnificently every morning just about daybreak. It is such a wonderful, reassuring sound.
I considered our kinship established long ago, Chaya. As for the displaced rooster, he may get some help. He was still there this morning, so I spoke to someone in the park office, and she said she'd get the rangers to see what they could do.
Hi, Bozo--If this rooster had been a different breed, I might suspect he was a stolen fighting cock. That's a major problem hereabouts. He's no fighter, though, just a big, fat yard bird.
I know what you mean about the crowing. I love it, too, and if my situation was different I wouldn't mind trying to adopt this guy.
My beloved Popsie [ aka , Ike Cohen ] used to go out at 4 am to feed the birds...
Including one misplaced, itinerant rooster, to whom Ike fondly referred as " that noisy SOB ".
" Come, eat, you little bastards", railed my grandpa-
Out in all weather, in his undies.
St. Francis could have done no better.
Wonder why I named # 1 son after him ?
Popsie sounds like my kinda guy, Chaya. I need a man who'll feed the birds for me...
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