Pat, my beloved but occasionally aggressive rooster, has an injured foot. We’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he could barely walk this morning. He held his toes all curled up and seemed unable to put weight on it. He’s hobbling better this evening, but I was concerned because Ole Red was picking on him a bit. Chickens are bullies–and they tend to pick on those who are weak.
So I put a large dog crate in my guestroom. Until his foot heals, Pat is living in my house.
My guestroom is already occupied by a Russian Tortoise named Murphy. She lives in a giant wooden box that my father made for her. It has an upstairs basking platform, a downstairs area for her food and water, and a tunnel where she can hide.
Because her box is wooden, Pat can hear her, but he can’t see her. She was moving around earlier, and he sat up and tilted his head. He seemed a bit alarmed.
He hasn’t met the cats yet. They know something is in that room. They just don’t know what. I’ll eventually introduce them. I predict they’ll find him a bit terrifying–like that time I brought home a bunny, and it was the freakiest thing they had ever seen.
Fortunately for me, Pat has never crowed.
Of course, I want Pat to be as happy as possible, and that will mean giving him a little freedom as soon as his foot starts to get better. So I ordered a chicken diaper from Amazon. It had really mixed reviews, so it may or may not actually work. And there’s a chance he simply won’t let me put it on him. But I’m going to try it, because I really love that rooster. And because you, my loyal readers, really want to see a picture of a rooster wearing a diaper.