It was awful. I've had him for two years now, and he was always so full of life, always running around, making noise, violently raping his hens, attacking everyone. If you whistled to him at a certain frequency, he would respond with a very loud cluck that could be heard from a long way away. His crowing was so loud i swore i once heard it from my place of work, half a kilometre down the road. The colour of shoe you wore also made him react in different ways, dark colours would leave him calm whilst whites, reds and yellows would set him off, and he'd run straight for you and try and attack. He was a very stressed and angry chicken, but he'd always put a smile on the face of everyone who watched him, because he was such a character. At about 4 o clock, i heard him crowing. Ten minutes later, i got called outside by my mum, and he was lying dead in the middle of the front garden. Nothing had attacked him, he hadn't been ill, he had just dropped dead. What made it sadder was the littlest of the hens were gathered around him when we discovered him, his usual puffed up plumage was now flat and lifeless.
We named him Chip, because a) he had golden brown feathers, the same colour as oven chips, but also because he always had a chip on his shoulder...
It seems strange to mourn for a chicken, usually one would react in such a way if the family dog or cat passed away. I just thought i'd post a little something about him, this rooster really was something special.
Edited by skaterava, 30 June 2010 - 11:59 PM.