We have had a new family member since December… his name is Marco.
Marco was a rescue rooster. He needed a place to stay where he wouldn’t be pecked at, and more importantly (in my opinion) a safe place to learn to use his voice. Not to personify a rooster, ‘cuz frankly — if it didn’t work out the plan was to put him in the broiler… but the poor thing didn’t even know how to crow. Now, for some people that would be a marvel. A beautiful bird like that which won’t wake me up at dawn? Where do I sign up?
I personally felt a kindred spirit with Marco about this whole voice thing. Poor, sweet bird. I am learning how to use my voice too. It’s been something of a spiritual awakening for me, stepping out and being myself more and more as I learn to trust God in the midst of things that overwhelm me or scare me to death. So…. as Marco began to slowly work on his crowing, I silently cheered him on, and rejoiced when he not only mastered the crow, but I heard my little kids begin to mimic it. Isn’t imitation the finest flattery — especially when it’s something we’ve only just figured out?
So, yes…. my kids love him (he’s very friendly… when he’s not hungry).
We’re lucky; our neighbors on one side already have a rooster and our neighbors on the other side were raised with them (when Marco got out the first week he was with us, they fed him and took care of him until we came for him). So I suppose you could say our neighborhood is already set up for urban chickens (the rapidly-forming online community support for this is astounding).
Why a rooster? I don’t know. Less to lose if we don’t get it right — after all, he was free to us. Now — the coop wasn’t, but I did get this one for a great bargain (put it together myself with screws and carpenter’s glue, even getting a bit of a refund for badly-done predrilled holes which I had to remedy myself).
My favorite things so far: I love Marco’s little happy bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk when I put down leftover cereal, popcorn, you name it. Also, my son (pictured above) has started singing
This little piggy went to Marco, this little piggy stayed home.
Another thing I like: Now I know how to tuck his head down and put him to sleep, and give him a nice luxurious petting. It’s quite soothing (to me, too). Who needs dogs or cats? Marco, and hopefully (when we can get them) his soon-to-be harem, will be not only playful, but productive, with eggs and chicks (when we need them).
So, yes, on to the reason I really want chickens: I love “yard eggs,” as they’re called in my family. Eggs which have basked in the sun after days of pecking fresh yummy seeds and scratching in the meadow of the back-yard — I’m drooling about this already — are firm and solid, buttery to the taste, with darker yolks and savory finishes on the palate once done over-easy, scrambled, or omelet-style. YUM. Every time I visit our family/friends with “yard eggs” in the fridge I walk away a happier woman, feeling like dancing and singing (I’m not kidding):
To life, to life, L’chai-im!
So…. Thanks for reading, Friends!