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December 2, 2007
Satchmo is bunking in the garage for now
So, yesterday morning I went out to check on the chickens and guineas. I was a little concerned because I neither saw or heard Satchmo. I finally found him, soaking wet, roosting on the ladder. He did not look happy. On Friday, Rocky, the other rooster, was picking on him, literally - sorting out the pecking order, I suppose, but Satchmo lost several of his crest feathers.
Rocky had pulled out some blood feathers, too - which means that poor Satchmo had an icky, bloody head.
So I gathered up my wet rooster, Satchmo, and carried him into the house, got a towel and held him and pet him until he warmed up and started drying off. I figured that since it was a rainy day, I'd put him in the garage so he would stay dry - the other birds were not allowing him into the warm part of the chicken coop.
I really thought he would be safe.
John and I left the house to run some Home Depot errands and to do a bit of antiquing (John was very kind to acquiesce to my antiquing jones) and to eventually try the new restaurant in Leavenworth, the Blue Crab Bistro.
Several hours later, we returned home. I pulled up next to the garage and saw that the door from the house to the garage was open, which meant that 7 cats and 2 dogs had access to my one little Bantam Polish rooster, who was supposed to be safe, in the garage.
Damn, I must have done it, because I was the last one out of the house.
I could not look. I went into the house, and checked for rooster remains in each room, then I put the 2 dogs outside and was trying to get up the heart to go to the garage to find what must be my dead bird, when John said that Satchmo was alive - looked a bit frazzled, definitely frightened, but apparently okay.
So, I went in, he let me pick him up and hold him and pet him and talk to him. He started making little rooster sounds back. I brought him some food and water, and he ate and drank, so I figured he would be fine.
This morning, he was feeling good enough to start crowing at the absolute break of dawn.
Posted by Beth at December 2, 2007 7:21 AM
Comments
Poor little guy! Though I was grinning a bit when John described him as "looking a bit frazzled". ;)
Posted by: pam at December 2, 2007 8:38 AM
Well, he was.
He had a breast feather or two out of whack, and was definitely... frazzled.
Poor little guy is probably suffering from PTSD. 5 seconds at a time or so, anyway. However long the attention span of a chicken is.
Posted by: John of Argghhh! at December 2, 2007 12:45 PM
In the Cock Gaming World back home he would be termed: Un Gallo Manilo. Poor Satch.
Posted by: Boquisucio at December 2, 2007 4:32 PM
I read that one can now buy non-sharp weapons to strap onto one's cock's spurs; sorta like boxing gloves. Is Satchmo up to a fight, not to the death, just to intimidate his enemy, so as to help his self-esteem?
I wonder if it's now against the law to have non-lethal cock fights. I betcha it is so.
Posted by: Justthisguy at December 6, 2007 1:37 AM
Let's face it. Satch is a Lover, not a Fighter.
As per my private E-Mail to Massa John, this won't do much good. "Manilos" like him will cower in panic at the first sight of an Alfa Rooster.
Posted by: Boquisucio at December 6, 2007 8:20 AM
an Alfalfa rooster even.
Posted by: Trias at December 7, 2007 3:36 AM