Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Cock Blocked

"Come on now, pretty boy, what's wrong?" Hank crooned softly as he crouched on the well-pecked earth around his coop. The glossy brown rooster continued to squawk and claw the earth in frustration, green tail flicking in irritation. Hank couldn't figure it out either. Last year he was fine! Last year, he'd mated seventeen hens and had a whole clutch of eggs, so why wasn't it happening this year? It wasn't his age. Gavin was only two years old. These were the best years of his life! Prime mating time! Hank had already taken him to the local vet, but Luther found nothing wrong with him. He was a little stressed, but that could be put down to being stuffed in the carrier and hauled into town. "You don't like Teeny anymore? You guys had a flock of chicks last year!" Gavin flapped his wings again, fluttering a little way away to the wire fence running along his neighbour's pen.

A guy named Richard Perkins owned the place next door, and had built his own coop that very year. It looked pretty fancy too, with some expensive black breed of chickens. The rooster, in particular, was truly striking. Shiny black feathers and skin, huge wings, and a good strong body. Even his caw was loud. Hank would know. The damned thing woke him up every morning fighting with Gavin. They cawed and croaked for three hours straight, flapping and clawing at the fence until they both tired out. Hank wasn't sure if Richard was deaf or if he was already awake at that time, but he never seemed bothered when he finally appeared to feed his flock.

"Is that it? Is that big brute putting you off your game?" He'd never heard of cocks being competitive like that, but maybe the other rooster was making him feel inferior somehow. "Hey!" Hank stood up with a frown and rested his hands on his hips as Gavin shot off towards the fence, where the black rooster had appeared, ducking its head and bobbing its tail. The chickens seemed unconcerned at least, happy to peck the earth and scratch the ground looking for worms. Gavin joined the black rooster with a few ducks and bobs of his own before skittering off along the fence with a ruffle of his shiny green tail. The black cock followed, almost as if it were a game. They ran the entire length of the fence before turning and running back, hopping and flapping all the while. Are they fighting or playing? Hank had never seen anything like it.

Well, maybe that wasn't true. He'd seen Gavin running and chasing before, only it was with the hens. Last year, the glossy brown rooster had puffed up his chest, fluffed his comb, and strutted himself all around the pen. He'd chased the hens at any opportunity, birthing a whole brood of new chickens for him to sell. Gavin was good breeding stock, but if he wasn't going to do his job...Maybe I'm being too hasty. It's only halfway through the spring. Maybe his mojo's running late this year...Doubt crept in as he watched how he was with the rooster next door. They were still at the fence, hooting softly and pecking beaks through the mesh.

"Hank." Richard...He was used to that gruff voice by now. Richard was younger and recently moved in from the city. Hank had no idea what business he was in before, but it wasn't farming. If he had to guess, he'd say he bought the place on a whim, or maybe he'd inherited it. Either way, the moment he moved in, everything had changed, and not just with the chickens. He'd converted the farm next door into a breeding ground for horses. He'd shown interest in a few other curiosities, like the black chickens, but the bulk of his business was in race horses. Suits him. Hank smirked as the petite man entered his pen and walked up to the mesh fence. He was short, barely five foot four, made one hell of a jockey, too. Hank had seen him tearing around that fancy track he'd installed in the outer field. The tight slacks and knee-high boots suggested he'd been out earlier that day, not that Hank took notice.

"Richard." Hank gave him a polite nod and stepped up to the fence, towering over him since he was almost a foot taller. The lack of height didn't seem to bother Richard as he crossed his arms and joined him in watching the roosters. Hank could see the question before he even asked. "Don't ask me. I haven't seen it before either." The roosters were still there, flapping and posturing through the mesh, even clawing and jumping at it sometimes. Richard frowned, clearly as mystified as he was by the whole affair.