Feeling Like A Marked Woman

Mr. Banty and His Lady Friend

We let the seven oldest chickens out into the garden yesterday.  My suggestion.  I was definitely feeling like the day should be shared – it was sunny, warm, beautiful!  But inviting that little banty rooster along?  Big Mistake! Whatever was I thinking?

It’s not that I don’t clearly remember being attacked by the full-sized rooster we had several years ago.  But I have always blamed myself for that.  Little had I realized that crowing back at him would prove to be a serious challenge to his alpha status.  He lost no time in rushing me, wings and tail feathers spread, talons and spurs aimed at my shins.  He had suddenly grown enormous.  And lethal.

I gave that cocky fellow wide berth after that, but even when I was taking food and water to the coop, he would charge me.  Farmer Nyel – who, I hasten to say – saw more than one of these forays, seemed sympathetic and even took over most of the coop duties so I would not be placed in harm’s way.  BUT… when that rooster began attacking Nyel, it was suddenly a different story.  The third time that cocky guy drew blood, he was history.

Those were thoughts close to the surface as I went out to work in the flower beds yesterday.  Mr. Banty Rooster and the three oldest (and biggest) Ladies-of-the-Flock were over by the east fence – probably fifty or seventy-five feet away.  They looked so cute, I raised my camera to take a few pictures and… would you believe it?  Here came Banty!  (And, believe me, there had been NO crowing on my part!)

Banty Bigfoot

He was actually stalking me.  He’d come forward a few feet, then he’d stop and turn his head sideways, one beady little eye looking at me.  A heartbeat or so and then he’d come forward a few feet more.  Stop.  Look.  Assess.  His girls were still back by the east fence, not the least bit interested.  (And, Nyel was mowing nearby – also not the least bit interested.)  On he came as I kept snapping.  And then… the attack!  YIKES!  He may be small but he’s mighty.  I actually ran into the house.

Later, when the chickens were occupied in another part of the yard, I returned to my flower bed.  All was well for about ten minutes and then… here they came!  The girls like to garden with me but I wasn’t taking any chances.  I headed for the nearest door and damned if that little fowl fellow didn’t attack me again as I was on the run!

When I complained to Farmer Nyel, he didn’t exactly laugh.  But I can’t say he was very sympathetic.  He has agreed, however, that the chickens will stay cooped up until further notice.  Until he, himself, is attacked two or three times, I thought to myself, but I wisely said nothing.  The stew pot is at the ready…

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