There's a special kind of chaos that comes with a rooster who decides you're his people. This mystery man showed up, demanded cuddles, and apparently thinks your kids are his personal flock. I get it. You're charmed, a little confused, and wondering if you've accidentally adopted a feathered toddler. The fact that he's "very VERY loving" and asks to be picked up in the morning? That's not a chicken. That's a small, loud, breakfast-motivated dinosaur with a PR team.
Here's the thing about roosters like this one. They're often dumped because someone else didn't want to deal with the crowing, the attitude, or the sheer audacity of a bird who thinks he runs the place. But this guy? He's not acting like a rejected problem. He's acting like he's on vacation and you're the resort staff. That says a lot about his temperament, but it also means he's probably had some decent handling. So when you ask if he'd stay sweet with a flock of hens, my honest take is: probably, but you don't need to rush out and buy him a harem. He's already got one. Your kids are his flock. That's not a bird who needs more ladies. That's a bird who needs a job, and right now his job is following you around like a tiny, feathered shadow.
Practical stuff. If you keep him, you don't *have* to get hens. He's bonded to you, which is both adorable and a little exhausting. But you do need to think about the long game. Roosters live a while, and they don't exactly hide their opinions. He's going to keep crowing, keep wanting to be held, and keep deciding that your morning coffee routine is a group activity. The age question? Hard to say without seeing his spurs and leg scales up close, but if he's fully grown with bright, glossy feathers and a confident strut, he's likely past that gangly teenager phase. That's good news. It means what you see is what you get, and what you've got is a lovesick little gentleman who picked a family.
If a reader brought this to me, I'd say this: you don't adopt a rooster because you want an animal. You adopt a rooster because he's already adopted you, and trying to argue with a bird who's made up his mind is a losing battle. Keep him. Give him a name that matches his ridiculous personality. And if you're worried about him being lonely, watch him first. He's not pining for hens. He's following your kids around like a four-footed shadow with wings. That's not a pet. That's a roommate who's just happy to be included. And honestly, that's the best kind of fowl play there is.