Regicide

When I told you about our new Welsummer rooster, a couple of you mentioned your own unpleasant experiences with Welsummer roosters. The exact word used, in fact, was "jerk."

Ours wasn't a jerk. He was a complete asshole.

First he flew at A., who promptly thrashed him in the hopes that would teach him a lesson.

Then he jumped at the MiL, who chased him off with the help of the dogs.

At this point, I told A. the rooster was going to have to go. He was obviously too chuffy for his own good. Or rather, for MY good.

And then he attacked Cubby in the dog pen, spurring Cubby (slightly) on the back before I could chase him off by whacking him with the shepherd's crook. I had to hit him hard multiple times to get him to back off.

A. cut off his head today. I plucked him, A. eviscerated him, and he's going to be our Mother's Day dinner. That'll learn the bastard.

Spurring my son was the wrong move for him, obviously. Bet he'll taste good, though.

You tried to tell me. And so I will now add my warnings to yours: Avoid the Welsummer rooster. Unless you're a fan of aggressive assholes.