Roosters are so vain and rightfully so. This is my full grown Buff Catalina. He struts around the barnyard like he is a king and seems offended if I walk through the paddock on my way to the barn. I suppose I should give him a royal right of way, but I remember him without his tail feathers, wattle and comb. He was certainly less regal looking then. Truly, he is a good rooster. He finds tasty morsels for his hens and calls them over. He is not overly aggressive and seems to offer some protection for the hens. He doesn't crow non-stop all day and night like some of his predecessors. His mom, Henny Penny, took on a hawk to save his life, so I spared his life during the rooster cull even though his feet are not blue enough. I think he is beautiful unless he is in my garden.
The lighter colored bird is a young Barred Rock rooster and the darker one is a pullet. The adolescent rooster does not look as regal as the older Buff, though it won't be long until he will demand respect. The bird wire is part of the restructured chicken house. There is an outside yard and a building. I open the door at 5:30 each morning so the birds can free range and close it after sunset to protect them from predators. So far, The Yellow Dog has been respectful of the little birds, but I am keeping a close eye on him. I am always amazed at the anatomical changes that take place in such a short time. Remember when I first got them?