Friends, Rooster is not well. I think we might lose him tonight, maybe tomorrow. He is so old, and it is so time. Still, I am about to be undone by this. He is a fixture. He is my rock in that flock. He has always been, it seems to me.
But I will write more about him soon. I have to try to tell his story in a way that honors that magnificent boy. Tonight, while I was looking through pictures of him, dating all the way back to 2016. I must have a hundred pictures of that beautiful rooster, but I also ran across this picture.
At first, I was like, “Who is this beautiful baby?” Then, I checked the date and the other birds around her. This_is_Ruby!!!
No wonder she is so spoiled! Look at the magnificent baby she was!
I adore that little stinker. She is still hanging in there. Still doing what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. But she hangs out with the flock more. In fact, every morning now, after she proves her point and makes me let her out to run around the driveway, check out the garage, go visit the meat birds, she goes right back to the coop door and wants to be let in. She is almost, a little bit, maybe fitting in with the flock.
Sadly, she is laying soft-shelled eggs every now and then, which means maybe things are starting to go wrong with her health. She’s just four though, and Rooster is her dad, which means she at least has 50% very good genes. Still, Schubert was her mama, and Schubert only lived to age five.
I won’t think about that now though. It’s enough to think about Rooster.
There has been so much loss this year. Mary Jane. Hector. The ducks are starting to pass. When everyone gets so old, it’s inevitable, I suppose, but it’s wearing me down so badly that Ron ordered some baby chicks for me. They arrive in a couple of weeks. I chose some heritage breeds and some unique birds. I needed some joy.
I hope they are half as cute as Ruby was when she was baby.
