We have four roosters
these days. And so,
there are three chicks,
growing fast, safely
ensconced in a pen
with their two mamas
inside the barn until
they’re old enough
to defend themselves
against cats. Meanwhile,
Dads are out and about,
keeping their harems
safe,
and on their toes
for the next visit
from the rooster
who has assigned himself
to them.

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A few months ago,
we could have butchered the roosters.
But adding a few new members
to the chicken community (we hope
the three chicks are all hens) is a good idea
and these four roosters aren’t aggressive
towards humans. The ones who are
end up in the soup pot.
Too, we enjoy them;
roosters are beautiful creatures.

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They, along with the Guinea fowl,
make the farm sound
like a farm. Roosters are crowing
before dawn
when the little solar barn door
opens and they can climb out
into the free range of the farm.

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They crow most of the morning—
one rooster north of the house,
another on the south side,
keeping their flocks—
and the other roosters—notified
of their whereabouts,
I guess.
When the Guineas join in,
it’s quite loud. When the cacophony
builds, it gets my attention,
makes me smile out loud,
which brings me back
to this moment
on this farm
and the reminder
that I’m in good company.