Rooster mourning

[peacebuzzard]

Big Bob is in mourning.
We all are. Myself, Bob the big rooster, the three hens (momma hen and the two sibling hens) and the old daddy rooster.

Big Bob is moping around the yard today, meekly pecking and giving out deep guttural sounds I have never heard before.
The chickens and the old rooster that never crows anymore in the hen house answer him.
With the same new guttural chicken sounds.
This little flock was family.

Yesterday, the young beautiful glimmering red&black Banty rooster was missing.
This little banty rooster was Big Bob's duet partner for crowing in the dark moments before day break.
This morning was silent and eerie.
After sunrise, Big Bob rooster crowed a few half hearted attempts while searching all corners of the yard.

Yesterday, a huge hawk had hovered over the house. I assumed: looking for more prey.

Today, I watch while Big Bob the rooster shifts his head to look up at the sky.

I searched close by yesterday and spoke to a neighbor who also confirmed the presence of the hawk.

I feel guilt.
I had tried to catch that little rooster a few times. I figured he would be safer in with the hens. I knew there were raccoons. But that little bird could fly! He was impossible to catch and would fly up high, maybe twenty feet up into the pine trees. He avoided me for the most part after that. I don't think he ever forgot how I tried to catch him.

He had a short life. But longer than most chickens. But still, today is a sad and silent day for the chickens and for me, that delighted in the roosters' crow.

[yewberry]

1. Oh, gee, I'm sorry.

That's got to feel kind of awful. How sad for the little flock.

Sorry, peacebuzzard.

[Tumbulu]

2. I'm sorry too!