culling
Alektorophobia keeps culling in one place: 3 stories so far. The section currently leads with “Our roosters are clucking nice, but two are causing fowl food drama”, “Three rowdy roosters have my hens running for cover: time to break up the flock”, and “From sweet roo to fowl play: when hormones hijack the henhouse”. Oh, Oliver and Norm, you absolute fowl bullies! Oh, the drama in the coop! Chickens. Everything there is to know about chickens and the fear of them. The list below is every culling story on Alektorophobia, newest first.
Our roosters are clucking nice, but two are causing fowl food drama
Oh, Oliver and Norm, you absolute fowl bullies! I love my feathered friends, but sometimes they really ruffle my feathers with this kind of drama. You've got 70 chickens, six roosters, four food spots, and a full-blown pecking order crisis on your hands. The two sweetest old boys, Maple and Elvis, are getting chased off their breakfast by the younger troublemakers, and it breaks my heart. Moving them to the garden for a peaceful forage break was a cluck-tastic idea. Honestly, separate fenced areas sound like the way to go here. They deserve their own little bromance sanctuary without the stress.
Three rowdy roosters have my hens running for cover: time to break up the flock
Oh, the drama in the coop! Three rowdy roosters have turned my peaceful hen haven into a feathered nightmare, with the ladies literally running for cover. It's a classic case of too many cocks in the hen house, and things have gotten uncomfortably… fowl. The boys are ganging up, getting overly amorous, and engaging in some serious gang-mounting behavior that's anything but egg-citing. It's time to break up this chaotic flock before someone gets hurt, or my hens stage a full-on mutiny. If you're dealing with similar feathered fiascos, check out our piece on "Feather keepsakes from feathered friends" for a gentler side of chicken keeping. For now, I'm channeling my inner chicken referee.
From sweet roo to fowl play: when hormones hijack the henhouse
Oh, honey. That bright red comb wasn't just a fashion statement, it was a hormonal flare gun. I've been there, watching a sweet roo turn into a feathered menace overnight, and it's a special kind of heartbreak. You're right to be worried; once they start roughing up the girls like that, it usually doesn't get better on its own. The fact that the other hens started pecking at her wound is just the cruel cherry on top, that's fowl play at its worst. Isolating everyone was smart, but I'm not going to sugarcoat it: processing him is probably the kindest option for your flock's peace. For a lighter take on feathered drama, check out "Sassy Vanessa the Shetland has us all chickening out in admiration."