Cock Whacking
It appears I have been mollycoddling my cock. I need to treat it a bit more roughly, apparently. To keep it in its place. Easier said than done. My cock woes began the day the fucker arrived. (Sorry, but my thesaurus had no replacements for “fucker”.) He escaped from the run and Arūnas had to wrestle the poor dog to stop him from killing him. In retrospect we should have just let it play out. We spent the next half an hour running round after him like eejits, eventually getting him back, tailless but otherwise intact, into the run.
Any chance of a kiss?
He’s a cocky cock. I should have expected it – it’s built right into the name. But I had no previous experiences with a cock (ahem) so I had no preconceptions, other than that they make a racket in the mornings. Darina Allen tells us in “Forgotten Skills” that there’s no need to have a cock unless you want chicks, but that hens like to have a cock around. So I was genuinely happy to see him coming. He strutted through the run like he owned the place, but the hens were immediately smitten. (These photos were all taken on Day 1.)
Ah, go on!
The honeymoon period was short-lived. Before his arrival I used to spend quite a bit of time in the run each day, just sitting and chatting to the girls or reading a book. It was lovely and peaceful, with the girls clucking quietly around my feet. I should have enjoyed these moments more while I could. Shortly after he arrived I was cleaning out the run when the cock ran up from behind and pecked me hard on the leg. He gave me a fright more than anything – no damage done. Well, no physical damage. He had, however, planted a seed of fear in me – one which grew & grew as the days went by.
Well, that’s just rude.
I started bringing a rake into the run with me so I’d have something to fend him off if needs be. He made a run at me once or twice, which only worsened my fear. It was very awkward trying to open the seed holder or the water jug with one hand while holding the rake so I switched to using a little ladder that Arūnas had built for the hens to climb up onto the roosting bar. It was a little cage between me and cocky-pants. It worked for a few days, but then he started trying to run round it. I’d set it down against the fence while I worked on the water and he’d run round behind, so I’d have to adjust. He was leading me a merry dance. It was exhausting.
I concluded that having a barrier was actually egging him on and that I’d be better off without it, so I braved up and went in unarmed. How much damage can he really do, I thought. I peck on the ass? That’s not so bad. It seemed to work. I tried hard not to flinch when he made a little run at me, thinking of Dian Fossey in “Gorillas in the Mist” – whatever you do, don’t run! It seemed to work and my confidence improved. And then he attacked again. And I was back to square one. Coq-au-vin was looking increasingly tempting by the day.
So, any chance?
The neighbour who had given us the cock advised that you need to clout the cock over the head whenever he played up to show him who’s boss. This sounded a little cruel but I Googled it and there seemed to be a consensus that this was the thing to do. Grand, I thought. I found a plastic tennis racket that was sturdy but not too heavy and decided that this would be my whacker. I tucked my whacker into my welly and in I went. I did my bravery thing, ignoring the cock as much as possible, but despite my efforts he attacked. So I gave him a whack on the head. He shook his head slightly, looked at me like I was cracked and came at me again. So I gave him another whack, this time a little harder. Another little shake of the head and then he wandered off. Brilliant, I thought – I’ve done it! I went off about my business, heading next into the hen house to check for eggs.
I am lord of all I survey.
And then it happened. The full on, full flight, talons-lead attack. He waited, as before, until I had my back turned and then he cleared the full length of the run in about two seconds. I didn’t know what hit me – I nearly fell over with fright. I ran into the house to find Arūnas, sobbing with defeat and embarrassment at being attacked by a bloody cock. Despite the fact that I was wearing jeans (I would never go into the run with bear legs), he had managed to break skin and already a bruise was forming. I sobbed more.
The offending talons.
I did a bit more searching online today and apparently it’s quite a common problem. Cocks are territorial and it’s his job to mind his hens and their eggs. To him I’m an intruder. Except I’m not – it’s my run and they’re my hens and I miss hanging out with them.
So, I’m in a bit of a conundrum. I’m now too afraid to go into the run on my own which just seems ridiculous, but I can’t help it. Arūnas tells me I need to whack him harder next time but I’m not sure I’m able. Anyone got a good recipe for coq-au-vin?
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Maybe you can build him a small separated room at the side of the coop just for him with eye and voice contact with the rest of the group. This way you show him how much territory he gets and how much more you and the hens have. But coq au vin does sound good for this beast ;D
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I quite like this idea – I think sectioning him off, even for part of the day, might work wonders. Someone has also offered us a second cock, but I think that might just make him even more crazy!
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I would definitively would not recommend a second cock, except of course in case the coq au vin is still in your to do-list 😉
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Ah, hah, hah. Hilarious title and double entendres. You go get that little bastard and teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget. Just say no to peckers!
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oh, you’re going to get lots of traffic 🙂
Coq au vin definitely esp if you don’t want baby chicks anyway. Never had cockerels here so no experience but that blog post has definitely put me off!
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Oh I’ve done quite a bit of cock whacking in my time….. been known to run around the property after the fucker. There has been a result though. Sometimes I can see him thinking about an attack, but I’m ready!!! I often wait outside the hen house and give him a kick up the ass just to remind him…. I’M BOSS!
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Yep try a new cock. For the first time in my life I have a bantam roo that’s been marked for the BBQ since he started attacking my hands when I’d go to handle him. He broke our friendship pretty quick, considering i was raising hime and others from chicks. I’ve never had that before.
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I’d stew him, that’s for sure. Not all cocks are this aggressive. We’ve had chickens for years and have never had this problem. Sonny Rooster was such a gentleman that we loved him dearly and we had him for 3 years – well into old age. I was relived when he was stolen so I wouldn’t be faced with cooking him myself.
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Adore this post! But maybe you’re going about it all wrong. For an overly confident cock, I recommend a liberal dash of cold water, or perhaps you could mention in his hearing that he’s a much smaller cock than you were expecting.
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Ha – love that second suggestion! Cocks never like to hear that! 😉 Water might actually work, though – might bring the hose in with me.
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Hand grenade would be more effective. Though it may have dire consequences for your casserole plans…
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Not laughed so much in ages. Stick him in the casserole and get your revenge.
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Seriously – get rid of him. He’s making your life a misery!! Set him free to fend for himself. That’s obviously what his last owners did. And yeah, that post title may attract a few visitors with more than chickens on their mind!!!! Made me smile :-))
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Haha, that made me chuckle. I hate chickens generally since I had to look after my parents’ when they were away and they trapped me in their house, the Yale lock clicked and I was stuck in there wearing a dressing gown and high heels (it was early). I had to kick the door in. Trauma doesn’t begin to cover it. Coq au vin, I say 😉
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Oh my you are in a bit of a conundrum, what with a cock attacking your gentle jeans, and the advice you’ve gotten to just whack the cock harder! (Re the advice: Consider the source)
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Wow! I have laughed myself into a lather reading this cocky business. Nice bottle of red, few onions, mushrooms, bit of stock…
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I was going to award you the Best Post Title ever, but I see that Linda’s beaten me to it 😉
I think you should have gone into the run with ‘bear legs’ (fab typo!) – that might have scared him off 😉
Seriously, pluck The Fucker, and in the pot he goes. He’s ruining your fun. You don’t need him. You can always get some fertilised eggs from the neighbours if you want your hens to hatch some chicks.
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Ha – I hadn’t spotted that! I was obviously tired writing this – I’ve spotted a few typos this morning. Think I’ll leave this one in, though, for a bit of added humour. 🙂
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🙂
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First of all – best post title ever. Now I’m going back to read the post 😉
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Right, I don’t have any recipes for anything but that fucker needs to be taken down one way or another 😉
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yeah, after reading the title I’ve dived in fully expecting some leotard print explosion in a Lithuanian country side 😀
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I was hoping for more cock and less leopard – I got what I wanted 🙂
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Shhh, don’t speak it out loud. Next time it’s DPD ringing your door bell with a cock package from June and one nasty cock to answer your wishes 😀 LOL
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I’d just set him loose in Riga – watch him chase girls in stilettos around 😉
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dang, I’m now imagining how that could work out and what a funny blog entry that could make 🙂 Or even a whole new blog on cock’s adventures in Latvia 😀 June, you sure you can’t spare a cock and send it over to Linda?
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June, please spare a cock for the Latvian ladies – we need more of them here 😉
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I’m sure I can rustle up a cock if needs be. Fancy a cock, Linda? It could be the inspiration for this millennium’s “Wind in the Willows”. 😉
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yeah, and that would solve your cock problems all at once – no cocky cock no hustle 🙂
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Yeay! Do I get a badge? 😉
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You get my undying admiration 😉 Can’t wait to see what search terms you get after this!!
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dang, that’s my worst childhood memories about cocky cocks you’re written about. As a child I never was able to fend off a cock in attack mode so I used to flee screaming for help. Sometimes grown ups would then whack that nasty cock and it’d help, otherwise, if cock became too cocky, there’d be a cock stew at some time. So whacking either helps or…
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Oops – hope I didn’t trigger a flood of nightmarish memories! It’s incredible the fear a little animal can create, though. They can be really vicious.
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