In the last week, our flock of backyard chickens (for the time being, confined to quarters) has tripled in number.  From three very fat hens, we have gone to eight ladies of varying sizes and ages plus one very small and cocky Banty rooster.  We have no idea how old he is – mature, for sure, but he is still perfecting his cock-a-doodle-do so we think he is yet young.

However, from the moment he entered the coop, he knew what was required of him and he has been trying his utmost to comply.  The ladies are having none of it.  All of the hens – even those that are still just a few months old – are larger than the Banty.  The three-year-old Russian Orloff and Americauna are more than three times his size.  Watching him try to make his moves with them is comical.

He has figured out that there is no way he can manage unless he approaches the situation from above.  He stands on the ramp into the coop and waits, poised to pounce.  As a hen passes by beneath him, he takes flight but… alas!  She has tidily stepped out of his way by the time he lands – not on her, but on the packed earth of the run.  He has yet to learn that ‘timing is everything.’  And those ladies are quick-footed!

Between attempts, Banty has taken to sitting on top of the little isolation coop – originally built within the bigger compound for use by a broody hen and used more recently as a halfway house for introducing new members to the flock.  It’s from his perch there that he practices sounding authoritarian (and large) hoping, no doubt, for triumph in his next amorous endeavor.

As far as we know, his success rate has been zero.  Farmer Nyel, though, has confidence in young Banty.  “He’ll figure it out,” he says with assurance. (An attitude that is undoubtedly a guy thing…)