Ward Schumacher the rooster is like a part of the landscape. He can look like a noble tree of some ind, at certain perspectives. He deserves many portraits, but this one came to me this week.
I have become attached. Of all the barn yard animals, I find it most dangerous emotionally to become attached to the chickens, as they seem to die on a regular basis. Although we seem to be in 'chicken death reprieve'. Someone told me if you can get them to about 3 years old they seem to live forever.
So I relish seeing Ward anytime of day. He's independent, brought on by the fact he is bottom in pecking order to Papa Roo. He still sneaks in a quick "fertlie" [my word for chicken sex, as in 'fertilize'] and he has a special place on top of the roost that I feed him in the morning, allowing him to stay clear of Papa Roo. No fights really occur, but Ward really gets run out of town often, and a quiet morning breakfast seems okay to provide. At night, he often is still out, and he generally waddles back in the roost if I walk slowly with him, clucking. He's the first out of the hen house in the morning, and the last one in at night.
