Brother Crow

Chores are done and the coffee is hot. It's a normal morning here, mostly, save for the sounds of what could be a werewolf outside? The dogs run to the sliding glass doors every chance they can to witness the howling. Their tail wags and their tongues pant, excited at the beast just beyond their grasp. Soaked in morning dew and riddled with pieces of hay and grass - Friday and Gibson can't pass up rubbernecking the big show. What a beast to behold on a Monday Morning!

Alas, it's not a monster, it's Brother Crow, a new rooster. A friend stopped by to pick up six started pullets to replenish her flock of layers and I offered to take in her older rooster, BC. I have never heard such a deep, low, wail from a chicken before. I can't even blame the dogs for their investigations, I mean, I would want them actively observing werewolves too.

He is as tall as Friday, no joke. He's a Giant Black and lives up to his name. He's been battle-scarred by fox fights and rooster tumbles. He's cautious and polite. So far he's settling in just fine. Not a bad place to land for a ol' gent.