Ding, Dong, the Rooster's Dead, The Wicked Rooster's Dead!

Back in February I wrote about my attempt at taming our rooster, Wren.

http://zephyrhillfarm.blogspot.com/2011/02/how-to-have-nice-rooster-outside-of.html

Unfortunately, Wren has continued to attack me repeatedly.  I have had to defend myself with whatever I was carrying--metal tree stake, walking stick, a piece of 2 x 4, even my purse!  We realized Wren was going to have to go before he hurt one of our grandchildren, but spring busy-ness bought him a few extra weeks.

Then on Saturday I went into the chain-link pen in front of the coop to put food out for the chickens.  I had taken a garden stake with me and had verified that Wren was outside the pen.  I bent down to pour out the scratch, and suddenly there was a commotion behind me.  I whirled around to find Wren attacking me, having charged from outside the pen straight through the chickens--one of whom had squawked and given me warning.  I hit at Wren with my 3-foot stick, and he charged at me again.  He was between me and the door of the pen, and he came at me again.  I was shrieking bloody murder, but Herb was over in the barnyard and couldn't get there in time to help me.  Finally I connected good with my stake, and Wren took off out the door of the pen.

This time Wren did more than scare me--he actually got me!  Thanks to my fleece pants, it was only a long scratch on the back of my thigh, but I was furious that this animal that I had cared for since last August would stalk me and attack me when my back was turned. As he ran out of the pen, I pursued him, caught him by surprise as he crowed his victory cry, and whacked him a couple of more times with my stake!  I'm not sure who was more surprised--Herb, the rooster, or me!

For the next two days, whenever Wren saw me, he ran!  Too bad I didn't "lose it" earlier; maybe this story might have had a different end.  But I didn't trust Wren's remorse any more, and I had forgiven him seven times already.  So on Monday night after the chickens were up for the night, Herb entered the coop, scooped Wren from his perch, and put him in a cat carrier (see top photo).  You can only see his tail because when I went to take a picture, he was afraid of me and turned the other way!  Too bad he was such a slow learner!


A short time later the deed was done.

Strangely enough, the skin on the tip of Wren's tail was krypton green!  I can only assume that it's because his tail feathers were green and that the skin, too, was pigmented.  Anyone out there ever noticed anything like that?

Herb did all the dastardly deed himself.  All I had to do was cram the 4 lb. 8 oz. carcass into a plastic bag and put it into the refrigerator.  Oh . . . and find the coq au vin recipe!

I feel a happy sense of relief every time I walk out the back door and realize I don't have to find a stick to defend myself with.  I don't think the chickens miss Wren very much either. They were a bit "off" Monday on their egg count, but that might have been because Herb kept them shut up in the coop until he was done cleaning up the crime scene!  Poor Esmerelda (center of photo) won't miss him at all.  For some reason he seemed to like her the best, and her poor back has been clawed bare right down to the skin.  She has quit laying eggs the past several weeks, and I'm curious to see if she starts again now that Wren is gone and she can live in peace.

Now you know why I keep singing, "Ding, dong, the rooster's dead!"

And the moral of this story, as Herb put it to the painters and electrician:  "Don't mess with my wife!  If you do, I'll chop off your head, tear off your feathers and rip your guts out!"