I think it is natural on a farm with a lot of animals that some stand out more than the others, usually resulting in them getting nicknamed. Usually it is due to something unique about the animal or an event that happened involving a particular member of the fold.
One of the guineas, a female, developed a limp several months ago. She hangs behind after being let out in the morning to score more feed before we take it away for the day. We give her an extra fifteen minutes to eat every morning. She is the last to leave the coop and the last to come in. My guess is that she doesn’t get along well with the others because she is different. She has become known as “gimpy girl”.
The oldest male rooster, that was supposed to be a hen, was crowned Glitta King after he discovered his boisterous male vocal cords. He really is a nasty dude though. He wants to pick a fight every time Steve enters the chicken yard, so instead of using his given nickname, I started referring to him as just “the asshole”.
Another of the guinea fowl got into a brawl with the neighbors dog. The guinea managed to escape, but missing a few feathers. I know him from a distance because of his peculiar look; his became “Two Tail Feathers”.
The roosters tend to grab ahold of the hens’ necks in some elaborate mating ritual. One of the adolescent roosters hasn’t quite perfected the truly romantic move and ripped out a bunch of short feathers on one of the hen’s head. They never grew back and her name is now “mullet” (no explanation needed:)).
None of the named birds are treated any differently than the other’s; they just have names…….well I suppose I am lying. There is one bird who gets gold star treatment here on the farm……Taylor Swift.
Taylor Swift, who was attacked by the adult hens, which required us to nurse her back to health in a separate brooder before being introduced back to the coop, wins the ultimate prize. She has become Steve’s favorite. I caution you, the “exchange” you are about to read is gag worthy.
At least a few times a day, Steve goes out to the chicken coop to check on his prized adolescent chicken. Unbeknownst to Steve, I happened to be standing outside the coop during one of his visits. I watched, listened and can’t be certain, but I think I felt a twinge of jealousy.
As Steve entered the coop, Taylor Swift scampered to his feet and waited to be picked up. Steve bent over, scooped her up and began to talk to her “Well how is my little dumpling today? Do you like to be picked up? Yes, you do. Do you want me to take you on a little walk so you can see things better? There, isn’t that a better view? Is everyone being nice to you? If they aren’t, you let me know and I will take care of them”. As Steve walked over and gently placed Taylor on the roost and began hand feeding her bits of a cut up apple, he patted her head and said, “Now you know that I won’t always be available to protect you from the bullies. You are going to have to start standing up for yourself.”
Honestly, what a sight; my big 6’4”, 205 pound, ultra masculine hunk of a man, reduced to a puddle of tenderness. Made me fall in love all over again.