Goodbye Blackie Bantam

     Not long ago I shared that my in-laws are the greatest at giving the worst gifts imaginable.  Oversized sweaters, grill (the cheapest in quality they could find), jerseys with sexually explicit cartoons and live animals.  Yes, live animals.  If you’ve been following me, you know that before my husband and I were married they attempted to gift us a dog.  No worries – I stood my ground and thankfully so did my husband.  No pets until after we have a house and are married.  Most importantly, we would pick the pet ourselves.  Normal in-laws would have probably taken the hint, right? Lucky me, I got the ones that ride the short bus for in-laws.

     We should’ve known better than to let our guard down.  We should’ve known the wheels on their bus were always going ‘round and ‘round.  We should’ve have – but alas, we did not.  My wonderful husband mentioned that we’ve recently seen “We Bought A Zoo”.  For those unfamiliar with this movie it is a dramatic memoir of a widower and father of two as he tries to figure out how to help his children with their loss.  He ends up buying a home to start over.  The kicker is that the property comes with a zoo. 

     Who wouldn’t watch this movie and wonder what it would be like?  My husband certainly did.  The mistake?  He mentioned the movie to his parents and said he’d he could see himself doing that one day. There it is.  The moment the little light bulb hovering over the head of my in-laws lit up. The moment our lives changed. 

     Next thing I know I’m looking at chickens in a box, in my guest bathroom.  My lovely in-laws decided it would be cool gift for their son.  Let me help you out and translate: what a cool way to piss off our daughter-in-law.  I could picture the smile creeping across their faces as my MIL and FIL drove down the road to purchase these little creatures.  I could hear the giggles as they imagined me chasing them around.

     This brings us to the present. I named the roosters – Red (duh, he’s red) and Blackie (duh, again – he’s black).  Red seemed easy going.  Blackie found his crowing voice early on and seemed to rule the coop.  A few months later Red followed suit and began to crow. Blackie was sweet in nature.  He seemed to want to come inside my home and be one of the dogs.  He would coo when he wanted to be stroked.  He’d cluck like a maniac when he was scared or bad weather was coming.  He’d crow when someone was coming up the drive way.  I called him my feathered watch-dog. Both roosters seemed to respond to certain verbal cues like “Treat”, “More Water?” and “Hungry?”

     My husband often wonders out loud over “the hold” I have over animals that come into contact with me.  Even our rescue dog begs to be picked up, cradled and kissed on a daily basis.  This is a dog that would try to bite out of fear when my husband first found him.  A dog that would hide in small corners in failed attempts at invisibility.  He also cries and wimpers if I stop kissing him too soon.  My husband says I “break” the animals.  He likes to be tough and manly around them.  My theory is he feels the need to counteract the wuss factor he thinks I’ve instilled in the animals.

     My husband is also routinely guilty of not heeding advice from his lovely wife when it comes to country life.  What could she possibly know, right?  Well, there’s one thing this city girl knows how to do and that’s research.  I used the internet to find out as much as I could about chickens and roosters.  I learned that the males need space from each other or it can get really ugly, really quickly.  I told my husband many times (many, many times)  that they needed a bigger coop.  

     After a month of rooster fights my husband finally listened to me.  Until we could build a larger coop the solution was to rotate the roosters.  One inside the nesting area, one outside.  It worked well until the day I arrived home to find blood splattered everywhere.  We had forgotten to separate them before we left.  Red beat the stuffing out of Blackie and tore part of his comb off.  Ouch!  I treated his boo-boo and separated the boys again.  When my husband returned home he decided to expand the rotation to keeping one locked inside every night.  This worked until Red decided to challenge Blackie during every switch.  Poor Blackie kept getting the short end of the stick. 

     Red would coo as I scolded him.  Blackie would cry and coo as I tried to comfort him.  Poor Blackie just wanted peace and quiet.  He seemed to appreciate the mellow way of life.  Red seemed to want to fight and crow non-stop.  So, imagine our surprise and joy when it seemed Red had finally calmed down and was nice again.  As my husband and I settled into blissful ignorance poor Blackie was flattened on the ground with a proud Red sitting on top of him.  We separated them and placed Blackie inside to rest and be safe.  The next day I found Blackie dead.  Apparently, Red had done more damage than we had realized. 

     Red now spends his time crying and pacing almost non-stop as he looks for Blackie.  My husband and I have agreed to find a new home for Red.  We are done with chickens for now.  If and when we decide to try this or anything remotely similar again, we will be sure to do the research first.

     The right thing to do would have been to thank my MIL and FIL, applaud their imagination at selecting such a gift but tell them we are not equipped in any way, shape or form to care for chickens.  If we had taken this route, perhaps Blackie would have lived a better life with a family that was better prepared for his arrival.  Red wouldn’t have been in a situation where he felt his manhood was challenged on a daily basis.  Lessoned learned:  Don’t let yourself get pulled into a situation you are not prepared for in order to prove something to your in-laws.