Since she had free-range of the property, I moved her and her chicks into a small pen to protect the tiny babies from the cats. The rooster seemed lost without his star-crossed mate and the much-anticipated offspring.
This morning he is missing, and I’m concerned.
His lady, however, chirps happily at babies tucked beneath her wings. I counted nine youngsters yesterday, along with some unhatched eggs, which I also relocated into the pen. This morning, about a dozen chirping puffballs peer out from beneath their mother’s warm feathers.
As I feed the goats, I rattle equipment loudly, hoping the rooster will hear the feeding noises. My eyes pan the horizon.
Why doesn’t the star-crossed rooster come out to eat?
Moving his family yesterday upset him.
I fill the hanging feeder for the turkeys and then stand still, watching them eat. Sometimes the rooster joins them, but not today.
I pull weeds in the garden, making a little pile for the compost. That’s when the missing rooster sneaks up to the outside of the turkey pen, nibbling on bits of grain that scattered outside the fence.
At least he’s O.K.