There's our man Chuck Klosterman: rooster extraordinaire. He's taken to waking up the farm from the firepit benches. He waddles out there and a few hens in his harem waddle behind. He takes the stand and belts out a few loud three-part crows before returning to the coop for breakfast. Winthrop, the giant white rooster (AKA the Wererooster), doesn't make a noise until dusk. Then the howls come out. They seem to ignore the new guy, John, who is so small he doesn't reach Winthrop's knees yet. When John grows up he'll be be an eight-pound basketball of a golden rooster. If Chuck's a velociraptor, and Winthrop's a T-Rex—John will be a portly Triceratops. Low to the ground and round and look like some 4-year-old's drawing of a fat chicken. Wyandottes have their own thing going. I'll oblige him. So far he seems like an okay guy and is already dedicated to the hens he grew up with. They travel around the coop like little explorer parties. Yesterday they disovered beneath the rabbit hutch. The day before: grass tastes amazing! Today: who knows.
Hey! Look what I found! You can click this link here and it will take you to an application that lets you follow CAF on facebook. It's a handy, free gadget. I had no idea my blog was even on here till someone showed me. And just a sidenote: if you emailed me through facebook, please email me at my home address. It is nearly impossible for me to access facebook at the farm (dial up) and at work being on such sites looks sketchy at best. So if you think I blew you off, I haven't. I just haven't been able to get back in touch yet, and I want to since I owe a kid a letter, another woman some dulcimer music, and some such.
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