I told you that silky rooster was intelligent, but I thought he’d outsmarted himself by getting loose and left behind here. All those hens he came up with as a chick, the surviving rooster. Kay’s hens and rooster. All now joined with a free ranging flock somewhere else.
And he was sorely depressed being alone here.
But he must have known faith would see him through. A lady down the road with 17 hens and no roosters emailed me after I listed him on Kerrville FreeCycle. We arranged to meet yesterday at a pullover midway between her and me.
“What a beautiful rooster!” He preened.
“What’s his name?”
“I’ve never given him a name.” She scowled and stroked him.
“I always name my chickens.” Attractive pucker.
To which Mr. NoName Silky replied, “I’ve been to the wild wood, mither. Mak my bed soon.”
All’s well that ends well.