Two Notes

Yes, indeed, we are still here. I have two varied laments, today.

I checked my blog traffic stats, and noticed that much of my traffic still comes from words like “largest rooster.” That has been a consistent way to find my blog for a long time. The main reason is likely that our largest, oldest “patriarch” rooster does not have a name and goes by “Big Rooster” or “Largest Rooster” fairly often on this site. Here and Here. We didn’t want to name him and get attached, you know?

Well, didn’t entirely work. This weekend is slated as butchering weekend, and we’re afraid the big rooster has to go. He’s now related to every hen on the property, either as brother, father or grandfather. Chickens do not distinguish relatives while looking for action, if you know what I mean. We’re getting worried about inbreeding. It’s hard to find a home for an old rooster, even if he IS calm and trustworthy. He’s got HUGE spurs and a weatherbeaten comb. He’s kind of stocky for a buff orpington, not necessarily show stock. He almost died from mysterious respiratory distress a year ago, but WF nursed him back to health. He was raised by us (not by chickens) in our first batch of mail-order chicks. He’s still firmly “in charge”, reigning over all the hens and his one remaining rooster offspring, who might also have to go due to the inbreeding issue. Sigh...

WF is trying to be very stoic about this, but I am NOT looking forward to this weekend. Also on the list are 5 young roosters from this year’s batch and some of the oldest, barebacked hens. WF has already gotten a new Buff Orp rooster from another farm, all set to be the new leader. I’m a bit apprehensive about that; not knowing it’s personality, etc. We’ll have a small person on the place to interact with this new rooster someday, and I want to be able to trust it. We’ll see…

This is definitely the downfall of chicken-keeping. I suppose some people keep related roosters when they don’t care about breeding, but WF is committed to a self-sustaining flock with the help of broody hens. I’m in a stage right now where I’m all about creating new life, etc, so it’s hard to think that at least in the chicken realm, that involves some unpleasant, not-new-life tasks. Ugh. I will see how much help I can be, but am not feeling quite as “strong, rural, self-sufficient woman” about this right now. We will likely have help from another new-to-butchering chicken keeping friend, so that will help.

My other lament is MUCH more frivolous. I still also get hits from the phrase “flippy hairstyle” quite often, a legacy of my first-haircut-in-years posting last year. Following my normal trend of completely absent-minded personal fashion, I have not gotten a haircut since. I finally decided it was time, and was told that the tolerable “flippy-hairstyle” creator just retired. I gamely took an appointment with her replacement yesterday. 1.5 hours (!) and $35 (!) later, I have a slightly odd haircut that is NOT flippy, nearly too short to fit in a ponytail (ponytail ability= #1 criteria for my hair right now) and still smelling weirdly of goop, even after being washed. She left me sitting with wet hair for a half hour while she did someone else’s color. Sigh…At least she claimed to know someone else with hair like mine, so we didn’t have to do the “omigosh this texture is so bizarre” routine that I usually have to go through with new people. I HATE getting my hair cut, and this didn’t help my dislike. Ah, well, maybe I can put it off for another full year, again!

So, there. Death and haircuts, all in one post. Enjoy..?