My plan was to write about Bomber and the Bomberettes today. To do the post reasonable justice, I needed photos of the subjects. They were nowhere to be found in the barnyard this morning. I looked in the shed, the chicken house and various other pens. No show--nowhere to be found! I took my camera and huffed back to the house to get ready for work. Needless to say, I was a little irritated. As I stepped out of the shower I gazed out the window and there they were strutting around and showing off for who or whatever would look at them. Darn, and there just wasn't time to go do the photo shoot.
Your curiosity is probably piqued at this point so I will explain. Bomber is a rooster and the Boomberettes are 3 hens. They are all half Buff Orpington and Buckeye. They have been really annoying me--whenever I open one of the grain storage bins (garbage cans with sacks of feed) they swoosh over my head (or anyone's head, I would suppose) and dive head first into the sack of food. They stay there head first gobbling food down with their tails stuck up in the air until they are fished out. This is all very frustrating, especially when it is cold. Who wants to grab a rooster or hen and extract them from grain bags when it is below zero-- or any other time for that matter. They will also perch on the edge of buckets as we are carrying the feed to the feeders. They poke their heads as deep into the feed as possible, clutch onto the rim of the bucket with their toes, and fan their tails to stay on board. After many frustrating episodes, we have discovered that they like being picked up and carried around so now I am thinking they may be trainable. This is very surprising, because I always thought Bomber was mean--and he is, when it comes to other roosters. He has killed or run off several other roosters. Two have taken refuge with Merlot the pea hen and the others are gone. When it comes to people, so far, he isn't too bad. I don't know how long his friendliness will last--us handling him and fishing him out of cans and all. For now, we appear to be training--either I am training chickens, or chickens are training me. I am not sure what advantage there is to having a rooster or hen perch on my arm or on the edge of a bucket I am carrying, but who knows? I will try to get pictures tonight and add to the post tomorrow. In the meantime, you can imagine!
Oh, by the way, Bomber started this bad habit and has trained the Bomberettes to follow his example!