There's a certain kind of chaos that only comes from coming home to find your husband's been "helping" with the chickens. You leave for ten days, you trust the man with the flock, and suddenly you've got two extra roosters strutting around like they own the place. And they kind of do. These two gorgeous boyz are the result of a broody silkie who wouldn't give up her eggs, a husband who didn't think to remove them, and a mother with cross-beak who was never supposed to hatch anything in the first place. It's a classic fowl play situation, and honestly, I'm already exhausted for you.
The real kicker here isn't the surprise paternity, though. It's the fact that these two handsome devils have turned into absolute menaces, and their own father, the number one black silkie, is just standing there like a proud paparazzi dad. He'll chase off any other rooster who looks at his lady, but when his own boys come calling? Crickets. Total "that's my boy" energy. Meanwhile, the poor mama hen is hiding on the roost bars, traumatized, wondering where it all went wrong. It's a backyard soap opera, and I'm not sure whether to hand out popcorn or a time-out corner.
Here's the thing about roosters, and I say this with all the love in my feathered heart: they don't get a pass just because they're pretty. And these two? They're gorgeous, sure, but so is a rattlesnake if you look at it from the right angle. The practical advice is simple, even if it hurts: you can't keep both of them with the flock, especially not with a hen who's actively being traumatized. Rehoming, separating, or even a quiet retirement to a farm where they can be the big fish in a smaller pond, those are your options. It's not about being mean, it's about being fair to the hen who didn't sign up for this. And honestly, the dad needs to step up his parenting game, but that's a whole other therapy session.
What I'd tell you, and what I'd tell anyone who's ever found themselves in this egg-straordinarily awkward spot, is that loving your chickens sometimes means making the hard call. It's the same energy as when you see those Six fluffy chicks have hatched—egg-cellent news from our feathered friends! and you realize they're all going to need homes, or when you're enjoying a Tiny Marans Froment chicks are cluck-tastic, and currently napping! moment and remember that cute babies grow up into hormonal teenagers. This isn't a failure on your part, it's just the messy, unglamorous side of Chickens Got Her Good! A Backyard Poultry Adventure that no one posts about. The takeaway? Don't leave your husband in charge of egg collection, and never trust a rooster who smiles. Your hen will thank you, and so will your sanity.
