One of our neighbours, on the far side of the farm hamlet (maybe 200 metres away) keeps chickens. We don't see much of them, unless we go for a walk down there, but we can hear the rooster crowing in the morning, which is very pleasant and just as it should be. Nature's alarm clock.
For the last couple of weeks we have a rooster in our garden too. He spends most of the day here. There's not much to eat, though there have been a lot of windfall plums this summer, and he has no friends here. He does no damage, as far as I can see; he likes to sit inside our front hedge - I imagine the shade has been welcome in the hot weather; he stalks about the place looking vaguely belligerent, and he seems to drift away home in the evenings. It is noticeable that he gets here early enough to welcome the dawn each day, which certainly wakes you up if you are not used to it.
I also noticed that I can still hear a rooster crowing on the other side of the village when our new friend is here, so there must be two roosters. Hmmm.
I thought that roosters couldn't share a yard. A little inherited country lore and a lot of cartoon films have reinforced this belief over the years. Maybe that's what's happening? - perhaps he has been bested, humbled, chucked out (see what I did there?). Maybe he is sulking up here, or feels he has taken possession of a new yard (without wives). Perhaps, like me, he is here because he is a hermit. Maybe he is just happy here.
Any suggestions on the psychology of poultry would be welcome. He isn't a problem at the moment (though sometimes he does get sworn at in the mornings), and I am sort of assuming he will go away later in the year, but I have no valid reason to think this. He is quite a big, impressive looking chap, to my unpractised eye anyway. I would rather have him as a friend than otherwise.
There is drinking water for him; I'm reluctant to start putting food out for him, in case all his relations arrive. Should we be doing anything for him?
