We acquired four fuzzy baby chicks through someone who was looking to rehome them (a little more on that story here). We thought they were all girls but much to our surprise one grew to have really large feet. And then started making a funny noise. He found his voice; his crow. He was a rooster.
For many, a rooster in the coop is not a problem. They create fertile eggs which if collected can still be eaten just like any other. But roosters can become very protective of their coops. And unfortunately, that was our experience. One day Sherry was out collecting eggs and was attacked by said rooster. He flew up at her and left his mark.
I got the call and dreaded what had to happen next. At dusk I made my way over to the hen house and draped a blanket over him. I held him closely, said a soft thank you, and sent him off to Trailbale Farm for processing. I went home that night and cried. I even tear up as I type this passage. I know this is not a post for everyone. And many will disagree with all of it. I'm not here to say that how we do things is right or wrong. I'm simply sharing our story. Perhaps it'll shed light on farm life (even that on a small farmette) and bring awareness to where our food comes from; the value of the life and process it takes to make it to our tables.