Last night, it was so cold, I decided to move Heinrich, my injured rooster from hell, into Jake’s shop where it’s toasty and warm. I figured he needs his strength to heal his leg rather than trying to fight sub-freezing temperatures all night. Because of his injury, he’s been unable to roost and cuddle with the rest of the flock for warmth. Instead, he lays on the cold, metal grate floor of the Hen Hut all by himself, which must be unbearably frigid.
Sure enough, when I picked him up to bring him in last night, he was so weak and lethargic he let me pick him up without so much as a dirty look. This is not the Heinrich I know. I knew I was doing the right thing.
Heinrich spent the night in the shop, and I think it did him some good. I woke up this morning to his vibrant cock-a-doodle-dooing right under my bed (the shop is in the basement) — a good sign — and when I went to fetch him to bring him back to the flock, he energetically hobbled away, wildly beating his wings, giving me his usual aggressive, dirty looks. That’s the Heinrich I know and love! Next he’ll be assaulting my calves, per usual. I hope. I think I’ll leave him down in the shop for a few more days, or until it warms up. Or until Jake catches him for me.
Can you spot the rooster?
Evil, right?
Tags: Heinrich
Glad to hear that little Heinrich is feeling better. Never thought I would say those words together. He does look totally evil and as a new reader, I do not know his history, but, oh, that evil picture from before with those eyes….
I can just imagine the horror his inflicts on your legs. Babies do the same thing by the way. People say “Oh, he has such cute chubby legs.” And I say “Yes, he has his Mommy’s legs”. A nice parting gift along with the can.
Meredith: The joys of motherhood, right? JK