Bravely, bold Sir Robin, bravely ran away, away!

Well, I didn't think there would be anything of interest to write about today, but my chickens proved me wrong.

Yes, it would appear that I am the not-too-proud owner of Sir Robin's mascot. 

Who is Sir Robin, you say? Well, if you don't know, you really ought to watch Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail. Everyone should be subjected to this film at some point in their life, it's full of memorable moments like the unstoppable killer attack bunny, and lots of catchy tunes (most of which your kids really shouldn't hear...).

One such catchy tune is delivered by a group of annoying minstrels (who later get eaten, yeah!) who sing a disturbing song which regales the frequent lack of heroics by Sir Robin. 

"When danger reared it's ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled, 

Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about, and gallantly he chickened out,

Bravely taking to his feet, he beat a very brave retreat,

Bravest of the braaaaave! Sir Robin!"

This knight's device on his shield shows a lovely rooster, which was apparently painted the wrong color, since I can assure you it should have been red!

Little did I realize, Sir Robin's rooster has been hiding in the stall that our little Dartmoor pony really wishes she had to herself. He perches either on Wheelie, or wherever else he can manage to escape the notice of the other roosters. 

I didn't realize just how "chicken" a chicken he was until this morning when I left Wheelie's door open after letting her out to graze. This rooster slunk out of the stall, hugging the wall, then snuck through the shed next-door, and tiptoed over to the other barn, all the while exuding a jedi-strength suggestion that he was "not the chicken you're looking for...".

I thought this behavior was a little uncalled for since he is a pretty good sized Rhode Island Red rooster, allbeit a tatty looking one, but still, what was he so afraid of?

After Robin snuck into Nora's stall to see if she left any breakfast tidbits behind, Bubba, the nosy black rooster sauntered over and poked his head in to see if Robin had found anything of interest. I heard a terrified squawk, and Robin burst out of the stall, and ran away! Bubba just watched him run off, a bit startled at the rude greeting he'd gotten. I followed to see where Robin had gone to find that the poor idiot was doing this:

I kid you not, this rooster is in dire need of some self-help lectures. 

You would think he'd been the subject of years of schoolyard bullying with that reaction, but I've actually never seen him get his tail handed to him by the other boys. Go figure.

It's ok to point and laugh, he can't possibly lose any more self-esteem at this point.

It will take a far more skilled counselor than I to find out just why he lost his cocky groove. For now, I hope Wheelie continues to let him hide in her secret clubhouse.

On a side note, he and his brothers are the reason you shouldn't trust the signs on the big tubs full of adorable peeps at the Tractor Supply Co. store. We thought we were buying Rhode Island Pullets (meaning GIRLS) at the TSC a couple years ago. That is, after all, what the sign said. And they were more expensive than the straight run (not gender sorted) peeps, of course. But it became obvious that they'd been mislabeled when they started growing spurs and long dark tail feathers... Lesson learned.

Today's Egg Count: 7 so far, it was gloomy all morning but the sun has come out and it's getting warm, so there will probably be a few more before dark.