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JSwan...how do you deal w/Chucky??!!

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  • Original Poster

    #41
    I just dropped the boys off to their new owner. I feel like a coward. I should have had them processed. Me is now beating the snot out of meself for taking the easy way out. No doubt I've contributed to backyard breeding, ruining the breed. Now that I'm not guarding myself I realize what I've done and hubby knows I have traumatized myself for life. I'm such a pansy.

    JSwan and others who provide our food on a smaller, humane level, I salute you.
    "Concern for animals is a matter of taking the side of the weak against the strong, something the best people have always done." Harriet Beecher Stowe 1811-1896

    Ponies are cool!

    Comment


    • #42
      Originally posted by JSwan View Post
      My most recent bright idea was to wear a halloween mask on the back of my head so he thinks I'm looking at him when my back is turned. Like what people do in tiger country. I have no self-respect left.
      Priceless. The best laugh I've had this year so far.
      "We need a pinned ears icon." -MysticOakRanch

      Comment


      • #43
        this is a great thread. Hysterical. Laughing like crazy.

        Comment


        • #44
          J Swan...yes, "badminton". I get it..."birdie", "feathers". I sure was slow to get that one (duh!) You could do a Herriott-type book, only from a comical standpoint and make millions!

          I had a hissy when a guy who worked for me accidentally let one of my ducks out, couldn't catch it then got inventive by catching it a fishing net. Could have killed him...but as they say "necessity is the mother of invention". Those of us who live on working farms know better than most the meaning of that phrase.

          I've got to say this thread has been a breath of fresh air and a wonderful reminder how farm life tests the definition of the term "civilized"..(wink!). For all the hardships...sometimes you just gotta laugh!

          I hope COTH archives this thread (and the one by Jilltx a few years ago) as a favorites for those on the "Farmer Forum".
          www.littlebullrun@aol.com See Little Bull Run's stallions at:
          "Argosy" - YouTube and "Boleem" - YouTube
          Boleem @ 1993 National Dressage Symposium - YouTube

          Comment


          • #45
            Jswan, I laughed until I cried. Thank you.

            Comment


            • #46
              I had a flock of hens --- over time they were all gotten by varmits (some by hawks, some by ground varmits - you could tell by the feathers left on the dirt) -- didn't seem quite right to get more just to feed the neighborhood beasts

              a friend had gotten a bunch of chickens and wound up with a bunch of extra boys so they came to live with me (I missed having fowl around)

              one by one, they were picked off -- all save for Beavis

              it's been several years now and Beavis lives on

              he runs to greet me at the gate when I get home from work, he follows me when I'm outside doing chores; he sits with me when I'm reading on the deck - he even follows me when I'm inside...whatever room I'm in I can look out the window and there's Beavis
              Nothing says "I love you" like a tractor. (Clydejumper)

              The reports states, “Elizabeth reported that she accidently put down this pony, ........, at the show.”

              Comment


              • #47
                Laughing my head off. Lil sis got 6 RIR chicks for her birthday last month, and I don't think she knows whether or not she got all hens or roos. The mental pic of her being chased around the yard by a crazy roo has me chuckling. Love her, but she can be a little full of herself sometimes. I have to remember to give her a call on the way home tonight and see how her lil darlins are doing.
                Lowly Farm Hand with Delusions of Barn Biddieom.
                Witherun Farm
                http://witherun-farm.blogspot.com/

                Comment


                • #48
                  Originally posted by seabreeze View Post
                  Priceless. The best laugh I've had this year so far.
                  I want to know if wearing the mask helps from being attached or not... and what face is the mask?
                  If i'm posting on Coth, it's either raining so I can't ride or it's night time and I can't sleep.

                  Comment


                  • #49
                    Originally posted by Catersun View Post
                    I want to know if wearing the mask helps from being attached or not... and what face is the mask?
                    That was my latest "bright" idea - but I have not done it. It would mean I have absolutely no self-respect left.

                    I'm not sure a person could look more ridiculous... walking around with a tennis racket and a Halloween mask on the back of her head.

                    Given enough Scotch I could be persuaded to try it (only one beer was required to goad me into roaching my horse's mane many years ago, and 3 beers was sufficient for me to wrap myself in a sheet and belt out Sunrise, Sunset at an outdoor party).

                    But if I did - there is only one mask that I'd wear.

                    Colonel Sanders.
                    Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
                    Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
                    -Rudyard Kipling

                    Comment


                    • #50
                      Originally posted by JSwan View Post
                      That was my latest "bright" idea - but I have not done it. It would mean I have absolutely no self-respect left.

                      I'm not sure a person could look more ridiculous... walking around with a tennis racket and a Halloween mask on the back of her head.

                      Given enough Scotch I could be persuaded to try it (only one beer was required to goad me into roaching my horse's mane many years ago, and 3 beers was sufficient for me to wrap myself in a sheet and belt out Sunrise, Sunset at an outdoor party).

                      But if I did - there is only one mask that I'd wear.

                      Colonel Sanders.
                      Well you had BETTER post pics of that! Video would be even better.
                      Lowly Farm Hand with Delusions of Barn Biddieom.
                      Witherun Farm
                      http://witherun-farm.blogspot.com/

                      Comment


                      • #51
                        I really do have a lovely recipe for Coq au Vin. It traditionally is make from only roosters.

                        Comment


                        • #52
                          THANK YOU for the great laugh of the morning! I have six chickens and NO rooster, thank goodness.

                          It's so funny to hear people that won't eat their chickens cooking their rooster! When I picked up my chicks I asked the tough "chicken rancher" if he was able to butcher and eat his chickens... "Gosh no!", he exclaimed, "I just can't do it...the only time I ate one of my birds was when my nasty, ungrateful hand raised rooster kept attacking me.... him I cooked".

                          Of course, I can offer the simple solution to evil rooster problems...my Jack Russell Terrier Thistle, who is always ready for "flutter noms" (thanking Deuce kindly for that funny way of putting it).

                          Comment


                          • #53
                            My husband's grandparents were red clay tobacco farmers and always had chickens for eggs and meat. Bantam crosses. I asked him if the roosters were mean and he said no -- any mean ones would soon be put in the pot. Most of the roosters were fine with people. But the kids had to leave the chicks alone or the hens would come after them.

                            Comment


                            • #54
                              Evil roos

                              J Swan thank you for sharing Chucky with us. Do you have a picture of him? Thinking a nice flash of a camera may give you new powers over him.

                              ML

                              Comment


                              • #55
                                running into the clothes line almost had me falling off my chair

                                Comment


                                • #56
                                  You ever had that moment when something scares you that shouldn’t, but just for a second it does. Once that moment has passed, you get a little mad that it happened. You think to yourself, how stupid was that! I cannot believe I felt that way. It is normally this way for snakes for me, there’s a couple stories about that, but today is another story. A story that for just a second, I was that little four year old boy again.

                                  We have some friends that their house flooded during all of the rain in the Houston area and I was able to go over and help them a couple times to clean up, remove drywall and etc. But since they cannot stay in their house, my buddy asked me to put his chickens up at night. It just chickens right, no problem. Until last night…

                                  I approached the coop with no thought of the mortal danger I might be in. After all, it’s just chickens. As I walked up the rooster, I call him Gallo de Diablo now, eased out the gate. No problem, I just eased around him and like a good cowboy…I started herding him back to the gate. That’s when things went terribly wrong. Diablo puffed up his chest and threw back his arms and charged me. Now, I’ll be honest…He’s a big chicken (as in tall), but he is still just a chicken. But for a four or five seconds I turned into that four year old boy that had to gather eggs from our coop at home and fight, what I considered at the time, a giant rooster. My heart rate was up and my skin was covered with goose bumps (although I suppose these could be considered chicken bumps, goose bumps are for geese and that’s another story involving ropes and geese). I yelled at the rooster (because yelling is effective when fighting off a tyrannosaurus foghornus leghornus) and took a kick at him. He backed off a little but was still defending his coop with all the grit he could muster. At that point, we just stared at each other, like we were in some spaghetti western; standing in the dusty street waiting for the other rooster to make his move. I swear I could hear the theme music from all of the gunfights in those movies.

                                  At this point I started talking to him. I know, I know….but I think he understood me.

                                  Me: “I can’t believe you just did that, what’s your deal? Do you really want to go down this road? Do you want a piece of me?” (I might have yelled that last line, not sure)

                                  Gallo De Diablo: “Baawwkkk….” (I translated this as “oh, I want a piece of you alright”)

                                  Me: “So, that’s how it’s gonna be huh?”

                                  Gallo De Diablo: “Baawwkkk….bawk” (puffs up chest again) (I translated this as “that’s how it gonna be”)

                                  Me: “bring it” (again, might have yelled this)

                                  At this point Diablo runs at me again. And for some reason, I felt the need to yell again as I kicked at him (unleashing my ninja skills). I missed, he missed and we both backed off again. Again we stared at each other (I heard that music again and thought I saw a tumbleweed blow by) wondering who was going to make the first move. We slowly started circling each other; I swear I caught myself flexing my hands at my hips like there were pistols there.

                                  Me: “all right bud, if this is how it’s gonna be. One of us might have to die”

                                  Diablo: “baawwkk, bawwkk….bawkok” (I translated this as “it’s going to be you, cowboy!”)

                                  Me: “talking crap don’t get you nowhere, back off or die…your choice”

                                  As we circled I suddenly realized that I was now between Diablo and the coop, and he was about twenty feet away. It was here that my sanity returned. I had a thought that I would unlatch the gate (so I could quickly close it) and just let him go in on his own. As I bent down to unlatch the gate prop, out of the corner of my eye…I see him. He is coming at me in full charge mode; chest puffed, leaning forward at a dead run. I quickly stood up; he stopped and started pecking at the ground like he was just in a hurry to reach that spot.

                                  Me: “kind of a coward, aren’t you?”

                                  Diablo: “Baawk, baawak” (which I translated as, “nothing to see here, resume what you were doing”)

                                  Me: “I know what you were trying to do, you back jumping turd”

                                  I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he would taste with some dumplings. But he’s not mine, so I bent down again. There he comes again, same as before. This time I was ready. Like some grand master cowboy ninja, I quickly stood up and kicked out a roundhouse kick that would have had made Chuck Norris proud. There was an explosion of feathers, as I connected with Diablo’s head. He flew through the air for a couple of feet and just sorta flopped around a little when he hit the ground. For just a second I gleefully thought I had killed him. That didn’t last long, because as I said…he wasn’t mine.

                                  Then like some scene from a horror movie where you think the monster is dead and it gets back up out of the ooze, Gallo De Diablo rose up from the ground. I flashed back to that little four year old boy for a second, and had a sinking pit in my stomach. But, it seems he’d had enough. He headed further out into the back yard. But now I have another problem, he’s outside the coop and he needs to be inside the coop. So I walked away from the coop hoping that he would head back that way. No chance, it seems he does not want anything more to do with this cowboy ninja. So I did what any good cowboy would do, I thought about finding a rope to catch him with. But alas, the flood had removed any sort of rope or string that might have been available. So I eased around him and used my hat, which he was afraid of for some reason, and herded him toward the coop. He squawked at me the whole time, but he headed for the coop at a high lope. Once he got inside, he really made some noise. The whole time he was carrying, the hens were making noise too.

                                  Hens: “bawk, bawk, bawk” (I think this means “Oh Diablo, you’re our hero. Are you hurt? Do we need to nurse you back to health?”)

                                  Diablo: “bawk, baaawwkkk, baawwkok.” (This I translated as “I only came in here because this is where the ladies are and I wanted to be with them. You had nothing to do with it and you just wait till tomorrow, cowboy! No ladies, I aint hurt, that cowboy couldn’t hurt me if he wanted to”)

                                  Me: “Looking forward to it, can’t wait to kick you in the head again”

                                  I’m sure I will be closing the coop again tomorrow, hoping I leave that four year old boy in my past. Think I’ll take a rope.

                                  Comment


                                  • #57
                                    Originally posted by DebbieB View Post
                                    It's a minor wound as compared to decapitation.
                                    This is the BEST line I've ever read on this forum...

                                    Comment


                                    • #58
                                      I so miss JSwan. I still think of Chucky now and again.

                                      Last year I had my own roosters, but none of them turned out to attack humans. They kept beating up my hens though so eventually I began attacking them. I packed them all up in a dog crate and gave them to one of the deputies at the courthouse. No more roos for me, thanks! I got twelve pullets this year.
                                      I'm not ignoring the rules. I'm interpreting the rules. Tamal, The Great British Baking Show

                                      Comment


                                      • #59
                                        Welcome Cowboy & thanks for reviving this very amusing thread.

                                        As the former owner of a drop-dead gorgeous, mean-as-sin rooster (still thanking the fox that took him down) I can sympathize.
                                        I raised the ingrate from a 2-day old ball of fluff, only to have hormones turn him homicidal at 1yo.
                                        Hard to imagine the thrill of Fear 8# of feathers can produce in 100#+ of Human until you've BTDT.

                                        My personal Weapon of Choice was a plastic garden rake the tines had broken off, leaving a fan-shaped Rooster Launcher with the safety feature of a 5' handle between me & Feathered Death.
                                        Roo's been gone near 5yrs, I still have the rake.
                                        Last edited by 2DogsFarm; May. 20, 2016, 03:54 PM.
                                        *friend of bar.ka*RIP all my lovely boys, gone too soon:
                                        Steppin' Out 1988-2004
                                        Hey Vern! 1982-2009, Cash's Bay Threat 1994-2009
                                        Sam(Jaybee Altair) 1994-2015

                                        Comment


                                        • #60
                                          There is a reason that, when we used to get a shipment of chicks thru the post office, we ordered twice as many as layers we wanted, because half would end being roos.
                                          Roos became fryers before they were full grown.
                                          Only sane way to have chickens without WWIII in the chicken yard.

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