Biological Imperative

Butch wasn't supposed to be a Butch. He was supposed to be a Barbara, or a Bonnie, or even a Bedelia. Sexing baby chicks is an art, not a science, so once in awhile you'll get a male with your pullet order. (Don't ask what chick hatcheries do with all those unwanted males. You don't want to know.) 

Butch the baby roo has not only discovered his crowing voice, but the fact that he has boy parts. Boy parts that desperately need to make additional lil' Butch babies. So strong is this biological imperative that I'm able to snatch him up & away from any hens he's fixated upon before he comes to his senses and runs away ("Ack, stinky human alert!").

Adolescent roosters are absolute terrors to hens, especially in the morning (guys, you know what I'm talking about). Butch, unfortunately, is no different. Hopefully he'll outgrow his ham-fisted ways soon, else his last "date" will be with the stock pot.

[pic: Butch the hormonal]

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