Our very first chicas came in a lunch sack. Those were the ones I surprised William, Alex, and Max with when we were Jolly Green Rancheros. It was Alex that named the tiny "runt" Sunshine. Little Sunshine. Tiny Sunshine. It was so sweet the way they doted on that bitty chick.
And it was so ironic that the tiniest chick, with the endearing name, was turning out to be a rooster. It was hard to deny that little Sunshine was not destined for clucking hen-like for the rising sun. Of course we could not imagine ever parting with one of our flock, but Sunshine was making life a little too stressful. We did ask around about roosters, researching our options, but our efforts mostly yielded soup recipes. And so, we found a welcoming home for Sunshine. It was hard to let go of him...
And it has not gotten any easier...
Oh Amelia! It really hurt letting you go.
Okay, so maybe sometimes it's not as hard, but Frida and Fantam were exceptional.
So. What's my point? What is in a name?
I just can't help but notice that some of the most sweetly named chicas turn out to be roosters. Really, I know it cannot even be considered a coincidence, let alone a cosmic conspiracy. But just the same... I think about it. Actually, I think about a lot of pointless things.
So, just like Sunshine, Zoe was the tiniest chica. Tiny and docile, and we had every reason to believe she would be laying green-blue eggs by October.
No such luck. Rooster.
Rooster. Temple is a rooster. He crows. He struts. He jumps the fence.
Tesla is a rooster. He crows. He also has scoliosis... his head looks like it is resting on the far side of his shoulder. He does not jump the fence.
Now, I was about to retract my whole theory about soft names leading to roosters, but then we come to this one... Puff. Puff is the world's most aptly named chicken ever. Always was a puff, still is a puff. Puff is the most shy, unassuming, mild little chica ever... only she isn't a chica. He is a chico. I am pretty sure. I have not seen him crow, or strut, or jump anything taller than the lowest roost. But there are signs... like the cock's comb he is sprouting and the way his tail feathers cascade down. sigh
I do not know if this post ever really did come to a point, or was necessary at all, except that I am grappling with the sad fact that I will probably have to find Zoltar a home. Temple will stay on probation. Tesla may require a merciful intervention. Puff, if he remains Puff, soft, fluff, gentle stuff, will stay here. So, pointed or pointless, I felt compelled to record these thoughts, events, and musings, and besides this was more interesting to me than cleaning out our refrigerator. Thank you. That is all.