Hi. I’m Diablo Junior, known as DJ, flock rooster at Maguire House. My father, Diablo, was the biggest, meanest, blackest rooster in Washington County. He would lie in ambush for our owner, Maureen, as she came home from work, rushing her legs as she ran from her car to the house. Our other owner, Mike, once ran over Diablo with the lawn mower, and he came out the back and attacked the mower with his spur. All the animals around the house lived in fear of him, and he terrorized the grandchildren.
So, I try to be a nicer, more gentle bird while still doing my duties. I have ten hens in my harem. I watch out for predators and give the alarm call when I spot any danger. It is funny to see my girls hunker down in the tall grass when I yell “hawk.” What a bunch of clucks! I also point out the juiciest bugs and ripest seeds and occasionally catch a big grasshopper for them.
I am responsible for keeping the hens happy and the eggs fertilized. Sometimes that’s the same thing. Alas, I don’t have many children because these modern mothers just don’t have time for things like sitting on nests. They scatter their eggs everywhere, and it’s up to our owners to have an Easter egg hunt every day to track them down.
The only way to get a hen to sit a clutch of eggs is to lock her up with the nest until she gets the idea. This happened for me. Mike and Maureen went on vacation and locked us up in the coop. Mom sat on the collective nest until my siblings and I hatched. She is a beautiful black and white Wyondotte and Dad was an Austraulorpe, so I’m a striking combination, quite handsome if I say so myself. I have the most magnificent rooster feathers at the top of my tail, and when they wave about in the breeze my girls just go crazy.
Mike usually lets us out of our fenced coop yard in the afternoons so we can get our fill of insects and have a little adventure. The girls love to sneak into the garden for tomatoes and strawberries. I try to keep them out, ‘cause Mike hollers, “pot pie” and “dumplings”, throws rocks, and has even been known to shoot pop bottle rockets to keep us away. If we get into the flower garden his water pistol sends us scurrying.
After a long day of turning bugs into eggs and posing as lawn ornaments, it’s time to turn in. We are easy to care for, because no matter how far we roam I do such a wonderful job of herding the flock into the coop as the sun goes down. We are then shut up in the evening so we are protected and get a good night’s sleep. There is a live-capture trap outside the coop to catch any marauders. And the things that show up: possums, raccoons, feral cats, skunks, even a crow and a red squirrel lately. The animals are let go in the upper pasture. I watch Mike handle the skunks very, very carefully.
My other duty is to be the alarm clock. After watching over my women all night I start hollering at the first sign of morning light. I’m not the only rooster in the neighborhood. We all take turns crowing at each other until everyone is awake and ready for another day, another wonderful day! I’ve got to admit that I’ve got it pretty good. I’ve got a wonderful place to live, all the bugs and corn I can eat, and ten girlfriends to keep me happy. I’d be strutting around all day with a smile on my face, if I only had lips!
So, I try to be a nicer, more gentle bird while still doing my duties. I have ten hens in my harem. I watch out for predators and give the alarm call when I spot any danger. It is funny to see my girls hunker down in the tall grass when I yell “hawk.” What a bunch of clucks! I also point out the juiciest bugs and ripest seeds and occasionally catch a big grasshopper for them.
I am responsible for keeping the hens happy and the eggs fertilized. Sometimes that’s the same thing. Alas, I don’t have many children because these modern mothers just don’t have time for things like sitting on nests. They scatter their eggs everywhere, and it’s up to our owners to have an Easter egg hunt every day to track them down.
The only way to get a hen to sit a clutch of eggs is to lock her up with the nest until she gets the idea. This happened for me. Mike and Maureen went on vacation and locked us up in the coop. Mom sat on the collective nest until my siblings and I hatched. She is a beautiful black and white Wyondotte and Dad was an Austraulorpe, so I’m a striking combination, quite handsome if I say so myself. I have the most magnificent rooster feathers at the top of my tail, and when they wave about in the breeze my girls just go crazy.
Mike usually lets us out of our fenced coop yard in the afternoons so we can get our fill of insects and have a little adventure. The girls love to sneak into the garden for tomatoes and strawberries. I try to keep them out, ‘cause Mike hollers, “pot pie” and “dumplings”, throws rocks, and has even been known to shoot pop bottle rockets to keep us away. If we get into the flower garden his water pistol sends us scurrying.
After a long day of turning bugs into eggs and posing as lawn ornaments, it’s time to turn in. We are easy to care for, because no matter how far we roam I do such a wonderful job of herding the flock into the coop as the sun goes down. We are then shut up in the evening so we are protected and get a good night’s sleep. There is a live-capture trap outside the coop to catch any marauders. And the things that show up: possums, raccoons, feral cats, skunks, even a crow and a red squirrel lately. The animals are let go in the upper pasture. I watch Mike handle the skunks very, very carefully.
My other duty is to be the alarm clock. After watching over my women all night I start hollering at the first sign of morning light. I’m not the only rooster in the neighborhood. We all take turns crowing at each other until everyone is awake and ready for another day, another wonderful day! I’ve got to admit that I’ve got it pretty good. I’ve got a wonderful place to live, all the bugs and corn I can eat, and ten girlfriends to keep me happy. I’d be strutting around all day with a smile on my face, if I only had lips!
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