This is sure to be the first of many tales of Mr. Fluffy Pants' exploits. He is one of the leading characters on our farm, despite being one of the smallest ones.
Mr. Fluffy Pants is a Silver Laced Cochin Bantam with heavily feathered legs and feet. A fairly snazzy little fella, he has many of the attributes of your typical "short man" and he is as bold as the Chihuahua that stands up to the Great Dane, and as brainless. He is, however, exceptionally loyal to me. He is firmly convinced that I am the love of his life, and that I must surely return this affection. No chore can possibly be done on this farm without his supervision, and he expects his comments to be respected, and regular attention and treats to be awarded. He keeps up a non-stop stream of chattering bok-bok-boking when being my shadow, and gets jealous and butts in when I'm patting the barn kitties.
I should mention that his first object of amorous attention was a pretty little mallard duck... He was quite sure that species differences could be overcome by true love. The duck, however, declared that she'd never been so insulted in her life, and proceeded to begin a daily exercise in futility, much like Pepi LePeu and the kitty he loved. The duck quacks in his face, occasionally emphasizing a point in her diatribe with a jab in his chest with her beak. I will do my best to get a video of this, the duck still gives him hell every time he is near her pen, it really is like watching a cartoon, you can literally understand her telling him off, while he stands there looking nonplussed.
So, now that he can no longer be with the duck of his dreams, he has taken to following me all over the farm. He follows my husband too, but is fairly likely to peck him when offered attention, hubby ignores that and picks him up to pat his soft feathers anyway. Clearly he senses who his main competition is. I admit, I am moved by this little rooster's obvious displays of adoration, I mean, what girl wouldn't be?? When I go to the studio over the garage to work on my computer, he likes to stand outside the window and crow to me, over, and over, and over... no joke, he often serenades me for 10 minutes, longer if he can actually see me through the window.
The other night, the high winds blew the studio door open and early in the morning Mr. Fluffy Pants decided to investigate what was up there, probably looking for me. My husband came up to start work for the morning and found the little twerp making himself at home upstairs, and indignant to be evicted. Perhaps he was planning to start writing his own blog. It wouldn't surprise me.
This little guy is the lone bantam in a yard full of big beefy roos, he is less than half the height of most of the other boys, yet he has them buffaloed. Clearly, size doesn't matter after all. Or so he keeps telling me. He chased Sir Lancelot all the way across the barnyard this afternoon, and I was reminded that he is a fast little bugger! Jumped right through the fence like a steeplechaser, fast and clean, no wasted air time. Lancelot was looking more like Robin just then.
Today's egg count: only 6, but considering that yesterday we got 15 I am not surprised. Many of my layers are in their first year of laying, so they won't produce an egg every day for a few more months.
The last several days before that have been in the 7-9 range....anyone need some eggs? Time to post on Craig's List I think! I've got 7 dozen here from the last 10 days. That's a lot of omelets.
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