As I’m sure you remember there was a saga with Tuco a couple of weeks ago. Well, I guess it wasn’t really a saga, considering the whole ordeal lasted only about 4 hours. But so does a root canal.
From day one of getting Tuco, all signs pointed to her being a he. She got bigger faster, she developed a comb and wiggly thing at the bottom of her beak faster and was aggressive from day one. Either Tuco was a he or somebody was supplying her with steriods at the gym.
Our fears were confirmed on July 14th at 6 a.m. Unless you’re a complete idiot, I’m sure you know what happened at 6 a.m. Tuco revealed his manhood. To a sleepy suburban neighbourhood. At 6 a.m. Loudly.
I instantly woke up and instantly knew what the sound was. There was no grogginess, no ‘Geez, I wonder what the hell that is’. Before Tuco even finished his crow I managed to fly downstairs, open the fridge, shuck a piece of corn and throw it in the coop in the hopes of shutting Tuco up. It works with babies. Why not a rooster?
I was shaking and sweating and just a little high strung from the incident. If you’ve never been woken in a small neighbourhood setting by an illegal rooster that you happen to own, you’ll never appreciate the feeling. If you have … you have my empathy.
By 6:15 a.m. I had written and posted an ad on Kijiji. Free to good home: Columbian Rock Rooster. I specified I wanted Tuco to go to a farm type setting and not a dinner table. Once you get to know the personality of your food you’re hesitant to eat it. Or have someone else eat it for that matter. By 9 a.m., a deal had been set for Tuco. I had a buyer. Or, since Tuco was free, a taker. I worked the deal like a pro.
Tuco hit the lottery.
Tuco was not going to be eaten, he was not going to some dumpy old farm with a toothless proprietor weilding a rusty hatchet.
Tuco was going to “service” a henhouse.
200 hens to be exact. Shwing.
Within 4 hours my chicken went from being a hen to a rooster to a lucky duck.
The owner of the henhouse agreed to let us deliver Tuco in person so we could make sure he was going to a good home. He was very nice about it, but I’m sure the guy thought I was nuts.
So when the fella got home, 12 hours and 7 cock-a-doodle-dos later, we packed Tuco into a box and strapped him into the back seat.
It’s difficult to tell when a chicken is, or isn’t impressed with something. Until you put them in a box and seatbelt them into a oversized luxury car. Then it’s incredibly easy to tell that they’re unimpressed.
Tuco started to get angry. Since this was the first time I’d ever travelled with an angry rooster I wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, the fella did.
Tuco seemed to be trying to make a break for it, so we put the box in the trunk. Having an agitated rooster make a break for it in the trunk seemed infinitely safer than having him make a break for it while driving at 80 km an hour up a dirt road. Can you even imagine how hard it would be to change channels on the radio with a rooster diving feet first with his talon like claws into your head?
After driving about a half an hour, we came to Tuco’s new home. A brand new coop built to house the 200 egg laying hens.
Tuco was put in charge of the Rhode Island Reds section of the house.
I swear to you Tuco’s head was spinning. It was flying back and forth between all the hens so fast I thought it might just twist right off and he’d end up becoming dinner after all.
It was like a dream for my little Tuco. It was the chicken version of the Penthouse Forum letter come true.
The place looked beautiful and he took to his new surroundings immediately.
No shock there. And also, look at his ass. He was the talk of the coop pretty much from the minute he got there.
Within no time he had settled onto a perch and began the first chapter of his new life. Professional stud and bossy pants.
For the rest of his life, Tuco will be responsible for having sex with and bossing around a bunch of hens.
I can’t be sure, because I don’t actually speak chicken, but I’m pretty sure by minute 3 of me hanging around and taking pictures I heard Tuco whisper out of the side of his beak, Hey Lady, take a hike, you’re crampin’ my style. Or something to that effect.
There was no way we could keep Tuco. Not in a residential neighbourhood, and not when the purpose of my few chickens is to get eggs. If there’s a spot in my coop it must go to an egg laying hen, not a screeching – albeit highly entertaining – Rooster. If push came to shove, I might make room for a sloth. I love sloths. If you have a sloth you’re thinking of giving away, don’t post it on Kijiji, just give it to me.
So we said goodbye to Tuco and left him at that farm in the country, where he can reveal his manhood to his heart’s content. About 8-9 times a day would be my guess. God help those hens.
Karen…Thank you for today’s dose of wonderful. This is the best blog ever.
Your posts just keep me rolling! LOVE this one!
Especially the “ass” pic…I love the way the hen is “checkin it out” LOLOL
First, great post – people at my office think I’m a little nutty giggling by myself at my desk right now. Second, my husband loves sloths too! My Mom is an artist and we had her paint a mural of animals on my sons wall. The caveat was that it couldn’t be the ‘typical’ animals and one had to be a sloth. And, a red dragon (I’m welsh). Anyway – great post as usual!
I loved this post! Tuco is going to be a legend in that henhouse.
Glad to see he got a good home.
Karen: Such great writing. Beautiful photography. Oh, and hilarious story!
My dear Karen,Do you sell Monarch caterpillars? I had visions of my grandchildren,with their little noses in the air,proclaiming on the first day of school,” I spent MY summer at Camp Grandma raising butterflies.”I am afraid it is going to be”I spent my summer with a whack job old lady that dragged me through fields in stinking hot days looking for eggs that did NOTHING.”I will pick them up or you can come to my country estate and swim in the pool while I serve alcohol and bon bons to you all day.
I was halfway through your post when my 5yo son walked in and declared… “That’s Tuco!” (My whole family was coerced into reading the last post and watching the video)
I thought a rooster was a rooster, but apparently not because he was adamant that the rooster was Tuco and proceeded to tell me WHY it JUST HAD to be Tuco. He looked a bit crestfallen when I told him there would be no more Tuco videos because Tuco has a new home. :(
I tried to explain, but I doubt any child in rural Jamaica can envision a place where roosters are not welcome to crow. LOL!
*end of epistle* :D
Ruth – LOL! That’s hilarious. (the fact that you forced your whole family to read/watch the Tuco post). I’ll see what I can do about another Tuco video. ;) ~ karen
He really is beautiful, and I’m so glad you found him a piece of paradise. Also, there’s always room for a sloth.
Korrine – No kidding! There’s *always* room for a sloth. That might become my new motto. ~ karen
Lots of happy endings for everyone involved… especially Tuco! ;)
I used to have quite a few chickens. I have to say I never really like the roosters, but all of mine ended up being buttheads. After one attacks you a few dozen times, you do lose those warm and fuzzy feelings.
Love the post. The pic of the box in the back of the car is a
Thank you… that is all. =)
and he lived happily ever after ;-)
LOL!!! The photo of him peeking out the peep hole….probably thinking “what the ****”!
Love it!
Lou Cinda
He was saying, “What the cluck!”
Such a great ending for Tuco…if there is rooster heaven, he is there. What a beautiful place, he really landed on top, you must be so pleased. A much, much better finish for your Tuco than for the other Tuco. Wasn’t he just the scariest bad guy ever? Love Breaking Bad!
Truly a lucky duck! :) Good one.
Hi, This may sound like a really silly question but how are you going to get eggs from your remaining hens without a rooster? I’m I lifelong city girl so pardon my ignorance:)
Rachael – Like women … hens make eggs all by themselves. They only need a rooster to fertilize the egg to make a chick. :) ~ karen
what? i didn’t know this. thanks for asking the question rachael i was too embarassed! i’m 44 years old and just learned something new. thanks!
yeah- my vegan daughter calls eggs “chicken periods”
Oh dear, mothership. I already wasn’t a fan of eggs, but that phrase may make me swear them off completely…
Thanks for asking Rachael I was scratching my head with that one too…
Yay! That’s a wonderful ending for you Karen, and a wonderful beginning for tuco. Great pics as always.
Great post Karen, very funny. You should have rented him out for stud service instead of giving him away. You know, been his pimp.
Awww, I love a happy ending. lol
Hang on a second . . . Sorry, I had to go change my pants – laughed so hard I peed them! Karen this has got to be your best post yet! You painted a perfect picture with your words; have you considered writing for “Playhen” or “Henhouse”?!?! Love the photo of Tuco giving the hairy-eyeball through his peek hole at you and your fella! The return hairy-eyeball photo of your fella is priceless! Glad Tuco is happy in the henhouse – cheers to you Tuco! PS – There ain’t nothing like a rooster with a nice ass – LOL!
totally agreed–hysterical post!!! :)
Karen goes for the win-win-win. :) Excellent reporting!
Just found out 1 of our “new” chicks is a he too! Looks like Princess Kate will need a new name. Should have known when the princess charged at my dog with a “wanna piece of this?” attitude. Don’t think his vocal cords have quite passed “puberty” yet. We will see…might have him on Craigslist in no time. -Tracy
hahaha. Lucky rooster!
I love that photo of the box in the car.
Jesse – Don’t talk to me about photos, Mr. perfect photo. Have you seen his photos, people??? Perfect photos. Anyhoooo, yup, packed him in a box and seatbelted him into the backseat. For about 5 feet until he turned demon. ~ karen
Haha. Jesse Senko – I believe I went to school with you! Small world!
And yes, he is Mr. perfect photo :)