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What a day. I was filling in the goat barn with dirt this afternoon and happily minding my own business when Bernie headed to his barn to get more lumber. I heard him say “Miss Penny? You better come over here and look at your rooster.” I knew by the tone of his voice that this would not be good. I walked over to see Bobby Lee – bloody and standing very still. Well, that’s not good.

I went into the house and got my emergency tote bucket. If you have chickens or livestock, I highly recommend getting emergency care supplies and putting them in some sort of container. Trust me when I tell you, you will one day need it.

I filled the tub with warm water and laid out towels, wash clothes, antibiotic cream, Iodine solution, and baby shampoo. Then I went outside to catch Bobby Lee. And when I got outside I noticed Pico – he was covered in blood as well – and it was obviously not HIS blood. It was then that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bobby Lee was no longer in charge of this flock. Pico had taken control of the reins.

I bathed Bobby Lee and looked him over really well. He was missing a lot of feathers around his face, eyes, and neck. The only area bleeding was his comb. It looked like hamburger. His eyes were swollen, and there were scratches around them, but they were in pretty good shape. I put eye cream in his eyes, cleaned his comb and wattles and slathered everything except his eyes in antibiotic cream. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get an infection.

I love my roosters. L. O. V. E. my roosters. For the number of hens I have, three roosters is a little on the low side, but I’m pleased with the care they take of the hens. Spring is springing – and with it comes a surge of testosterone in the roosters. A few weeks ago Bernie and I were watching these roosters and discussing that Pico was making some moves to become Alpha Roo. We knew it would happen. I’m just sad that Bobby Lee fought so hard that he ended up getting so hurt in the process. Pico is fine. He has blood all over his chest and legs – but it’s not his blood.

I had no sooner finished caring for Bobby Lee than the phone rang. Our neighbors down the road asked if I would come look at their turkey. She had been attacked by three dogs. My heart sank. I headed down there to see what we were dealing with. The turkey hen had many puncture wounds on her rear area. Those we could have dealt with. She had a tear on her thigh that I am certain we could have cleaned and sewn up. But my heart sank when I saw that her vent was ripped wide open – and her insides were hanging out.

I described my thoughts and what I felt we could deal with. And then I told them that the ripped vent was more than I knew how to handle. I recommended that she be culled. My heart went out to young lady that recently moved here, excited about dreams of country life. She was crying beyond consolation. I could not help but remember that, not so very long ago, I had faced a similar decision. I distinctly remember how difficult it was for me, and my eyes filled with tears at the pain she was feeling. I put my arm around her as a friend put the turkey out of it’s misery.

Nature can be beautiful. And it can be cruel. Roosters do what roosters do. I hate it, but that’s the way it is within the flock of chickens. Dogs do what dogs do. It doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it easier. But it does mean that if we bring chickens and livestock into our lives, we must understand that there is a chance we will experience injuries and/or death of these creatures. The best we can do is be prepared to handle it. Both by preparing to care for them, and by preparing for their death.

That’s just the nature of nature.