The Roosters -- Much Ado about Nothing

If you live on a farm, or near someone who has chickens and you are lucky enough to know they have a rooster (aka a “roo”), you’ve no doubt heard the call early in the wee hours. We have three roos here at Cedar Meadow Farm – Hugh Hefner (don’t ask), Billy Bob and SOB (again, don’t ask). Each has their own distinct cock-a-doodle-doo and they don’t limit their crowing to the breaking dawn hours.

Billy Bob is our huge buff cochin male. He realized this month that he is a male and that he is surrounding by a bevy of chicken beauties. His crowing is limited to his afternoon activities with a passing hen, challenging Hugh if Hugh gets too close to his harem, and answering the rooster from down the road. Billy Bob has a crow that sounds like he is a chain smoker with something caught in his throat.

Then there is SOB. He is a Leghorn cross-breed and very protective of the four hens he has dubbed as his harem. He got his name when he pecked my husband when we were herding his flock. His crow is a very high-pitched and we hear it about twice a day. Once when he is calling to his girls around mid-morning and once when he is telling Hugh off.

And finally there is Hugh Hefner, our Leghorn roo, who I’m convinced loves the sound of his own voice. Hugh crows early in the morning to wake up the ladies (and the other roos). He crows after he eats, he crows after I’ve petted him, he crows to round up the girls that are wandering too far, he crows if the neighbor’s dog comes too close to the fence and he crows when posturing towards the other roos. He crows when I’m on the phone, he crows when I get off the phone, he crows when I’m gathering the eggs, he crows at the ducks, he crows when Spirit, our small dog, jumps around the yard. Frankly, he crows all the time. He has a throaty crow that comes from right down at his lower breast. It is clear who is crowing when Hugh steps up to the plate.

If a predator ever came into the yard it would be Archie, our guinea roo, that would sound the alarm. He never chatters unless there is something I need to know about, or Hugh gets too close to his guinea hen.

The common denominator between all the roos appears to be telling Hugh to knock it off. And Hugh, he takes it all in stride, and answers back with his throaty call, just to let us know he is here.