I've been homesteading, in one fashion or another, for over 40 years. I like homesteading because it makes our family more independent and closer to the cycles of nature. We get to see our animals develop and our gardens produce. Yet, there's also the other side of homesteading, where the Grim Reaper makes his appearance and takes his bounty.
About 12-14 years ago, my wife and I acquired our first batch of chickens as a couple. I had raised chickens previously, but didn't have a flock at that particular time. So we went to the local Tractor Supply Store (about 75 miles away) and picked up a dozen Rhode Island Red chicks. Unknown to us at the time, we ended up with 4 roosters and 8 hens. Chicks are indeed fun to raise, and they are cute to watch. Even our Great Pyrenees dog at the time, Tessie, enjoyed watching the peeps run around, eat, sleep, and crap.
Of course, chicks grow into chickens. And four roosters are too much for eight hens. I took it upon myself to cull the flock and butchered two of the roosters. My future spouse was extremely upset that I had harvested the two roosters, but she eventually understood the need to give the hens some rest. The two remaining roosters continued to mature, and as roosters do, they had frequent dominance fights. Eventually, the rooster that had a sweet disposition was killed by the other rooster. It was a sad time, but survival of the fittest, right?
The remaining rooster grew into a magnificent example of the breed. He was very large, and for the most part, handled his duties well. He certainly liked to hop on the hen's backs, that's for sure. Normally, he respected the dogs, my wife, and I. He did go after me once, for no reason at all, just a sneak attack. He also knew when I was upset, and he made sure the flock knew it too.
Anyways, all this is leading to the death of our big boy. I found him a few days ago, lying just outside the chicken pen. Apparently, it was a gentle death, I suspect a heart attack or stroke. He was 12-14 years old, and he had serviced 4 generations of hens, so his death wasn't unexpected. He was crowing and doing his rooster duties until that very afternoon. It was indeed sad to find such an incredible animal in the clutches of death. My wife and I pondered the circle of life, which is so ably demonstrated on a homestead. I suspect the hens miss the old guy, but they also probably breathed a sigh of relief, as now they can grow some feathers on their backs before winter sets in.
We've found a young, worthy candidate to replace the old rooster. He's another Rhode Island Red that's only 5 months old. He hasn't matured enough to breed the hens, but I think he'll learn quickly. He has already demonstrated flock protection skills, so he should be a worthy successor. The circle continues within the flock.
Urbanites don't learn how life and death are intertwined. Only a small percentage of our population has any close contact with animals, whether farmers, homesteaders, or sportsmen. Modern society has lost the intimacy we once had with our furred, finned, and feathery co-inhabitants of earth. Instead, we spend more time staring at LCD screens, while life and death continue their eternal ballet. I encourage folks to take the time to learn about the cycles that surround us.
