An Uncomfortable Post.

Through the years of raising my flock and then writing about it over the course of this past year I have grown to know and love the individual personalities of my birds. I know a number of my readers have also expressed delight or concern about the state of my individual hens and even the overall health and temperament of Coq Au Vine himself. I am so delighted that the peace and comfort that my little backyard flock brings me can be shared with all who stop by to read about it. It is my hope that reading about these experiences brings a little of that peace and comfort to everyone.

In my last posts, I mentioned that our two spare roosters were spared. I also mentioned that for Thanksgiving we departed from the obligatory turkey dinner in favor of trying goose for the first time.

Now the uncomfortable part. What does roast goose taste like when compared to chicken and other poultry? Just on the off chance that one of my hens has snuck a wireless interwebs access device into the coop, they should be rest assured that I am NOT, repeat, NOT speaking about eating any of them! (mostly).

So … here we go …

I do not cook well at all. So any of my comments about the actual preparation and cooking of said poultry is second hand at best and should be taken with a huge grain of salt (no pun).

Additionally, goose, as I understand it, is a much more common meal across the pond. This was our first experience with it, so I have to imagine that any of my readers from Northern Europe may be sniggering at our clumsy American ways, but we gave it a good go, I’d say!

We purchased a fresh, young, 12-lb goose and felt that would be more than sufficient for four people to have a good meal. The first obstacle was the price! Not being a common meal in the states, I have to imagine that it is much less expensive in areas where it is more common. Based on price alone, we will not be feasting upon goose very often!

To look at this bird in its raw state, we were struck by just how large the wings were when compared to other poultry. The drum sticks were smaller than a typical turkey of a similar size, but still sufficient. My wife cautioned that the internal cavity would not be as large as a turkey, and thus would not accommodate an unusually large amount of stuffing. Never the less I let her know that even a taste of the stuffing would be enough for me to be satisfied. My wife also prepared a goodly quantity of stuffing to be baked outside of the bird. This is what I would call the ‘lesser’ stuffing. But even my wife’s ‘lesser’ stuffing is far superior to most folks stuffing, in my humble opinion!

My wife researched the proper particulars of roasting a goose and was nervous about it coming out good. She is a wizard in the kitchen for all meals great and small. She can cook meals with all of the bells and whistles or meals with ad hoc ingredients cobbled together from what is on hand and each one of truly amazing. She, however, is eternally convinced that the meal has come out wrong and won’t be fit for human consumption until the taste test reveals otherwise on the faces of our family and the enthusiasm in which we stop gabbing and concentrate on eating with true fervor.

So it was with the goose. But I’m a little ahead of myself.

Goose is a particularly greasy bird. My wife roasted it on a rack to let the excess grease drain off. She also gently pan cooked the gizzards which produced more grease. Halfway through the roasting process, she drained off a goodly amount of the grease. She filled a 16oz canning jar to the brim with it for later stock and still had plenty enough grease from which to make gravy.

So, after the stuffing, trussing, basting, draining, and roasting, the bird emerged from the oven at the appropriate time and the sheer look of it was enticing! A rich, golden brown it was. My wife made the first slices into it to check her work and was horrified to discover that she ‘ruined’ it. The meat was unlike any other poultry we had seen. Rich, dark, and a little tougher than one might imagine. I was not deterred in the least. The look of it reminded me of a roast duck, though a little more greasy, and certainly less fatty than duck.

We sliced off most of the breast meat and I discovered that by and large, there is a lot less breast meat on a goose than on a turkey of similar size. The drum sticks were also smaller, but without the bone splints that interrupt the fine meat of a turkey leg. The wings were positively huge. Additionally, there was much more stuffing in that bird than my wife had cautioned me to expect and it was beyond belief in its flavor!

As the meal progressed, we discovered that although the breast meat seemed to be in less abundance than we expected, it was a denser and filling meat than the overly plumped up birds that usually are the centerpiece of a holiday meal. That meat was dark, mild, yet filling! The wings produced much more meat than any other poultry I’ve had. The color and texture of goose reminded me a lot more of duck than either turkey or chicken but was still unique.

The grandest feature, I think, was all of that grease. The stuffing from the bird’s cavity and the gravy were the most wonderful, delicious, flavorful features that I had ever had in a holiday meal.

So, I liked the goose very much. I’d prefer duck or turkey, but goose has its own unique features that make it worth the trouble to enjoy every once in a while. As compared to chicken, it is very, very different. The only similarity I’d say is that they are both broadly ‘poultry’.

Left overs have been distributed and mostly eaten. My flock has picked the goose carcass clean to their own delight. This thanksgiving was a success!

The short points:
Chicken – cheap, easy, and a million ways to prepare. Free range farm chicken is tougher but more flavorful than industrially produced chicken, and probably healthier I’d guess.

Turkey – traditional, commonly available, best ‘bang for your buck’ for a one bird meal.

Duck – my favorite! Smaller, one duck if a good meal for two people and will still produce leftovers.

Goose – very glad for the experience! Different, meat is heavier and filling, makes the best gravy for sure!

I have no experience with pheasant, wild duck or goose, or swan, or any of the like. Would LOVE to hear from folks who have tried these!

To keep peace in this house, please, I implore you, don’t tell my chickens about this post!

And a special thank you to Brazil! Lately, someone from Brazil has started reading this blog in earnest! Hope you are enjoying it!

Thanksgiving is Really Tomorrow (for chickens).

Here in the United States today is Thanksgiving. It is my favorite holiday! Not my favorite because of a glut of food (although that goes a long way with me). For me, it is my favorite because unlike how most American holidays have morphed over the decades to become bloated affairs with fighting over traditions and what is the ‘proper’ way to celebrate it, Thanksgiving is nearly incorruptible!

You don’t need weird costumes.
You don’t need an endless array of gifts.
You don’t need sappy seasonal music.
You don’t need a bottomless basket of candy.
You don’t need budget crushing decorations in every corner.

You can do all of these things with Thanksgiving, I guess, but you don’t need it. You need but three things …

1) A decent meal.
2) Good company to share it with.
3) A sense of gratitude for all that you do have in life.

This year, I am especially grateful that my two young roosters have been spared and are off somewhere ‘celebrating’ Thanksgiving with their new found flocks. It is the gift of life. The meal they would have become would have been a gift of life for our family, but instead we have sought this gift elsewhere and I am so grateful for all of these experiences!

Thanksgiving this year is a casual intimate affair at our house this year, just my wife and I, my mom, and our son. As such, we’ve decided to depart from the overly plump, hormone infused turkey, and opted for goose! As Americans, goose is not normally on the menu so we’re looking forward to the slight change for this year’s centerpiece.

The cats will benefit and so will the pig. If our outside gentleman caller (who is not my cat) arrives, he’ll also get a treat on the porch.

The flock, however, will have a cold day in the run with their usual feed and treats. THEIR Thanksgiving will likely come tomorrow! After our meal today, and left overs divvied up, they will have already gone to bed. The morning tomorrow will find for them the opportunity to pick over the goose carcass and any other morsels that can be gathered to ensure they will have a real treat as well!

As each year passes, I am so grateful for my life, my wife, my family, and all of the wonderful gifts and lessons I encounter through each year.

This year I am very grateful, my dear readers, to have been able to share these journeys and thoughts with you!

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Blustery Day.

The flock is really antsy to get out today, but the winds are ever so ‘blustery’. No, Owl’s tree hasn’t blown down, and there is no chance that our ‘piglet’ will blow away … but our hens would be blown hither and fore until they are ultimately plastered against Bob and Barbara’s fence unable to fend off the late autumn gusts.

The sparse lean time of late autumn also brings its more treacherous dangers as Mr. Hawk was back just yesterday. Got a closer look at him and he was … well … CLOSER! He took wing not a few feet above the chicken run yesterday and his wingspan was magnificent. I hold no ill will toward him as he needs to gather what he can before the winter snows begin to fly, but he will NOT ‘gather’ one of my own!

I know my poor hens are desperate to forage the yard, but with the winds high and the birds of prey low, this will not be.

In other news, the neighbor cat (who is still not my cat!) has not been seen. But if the dead mouse on my porch is any indication, he still intends to ply the object of his ardor (our ‘daughter’ Osha) with courtship gifts. Sorry, young man, but the gifts must go unreceived.

Lastly, speaking of our ‘piglet’ Ruby, now that heating season is upon us, she has retreated to the comfort of the baseboard.

Protective Custody.

Yesterday I went out in the bitter cold that had suddenly descended upon us the day before to do my shopping. The flock had been fed a warm breakfast and were milling about the yard on a sunny, but bitterly cold morning. I mused over letting them out after I came home with the groceries … pretty cold to be wending off to who knows where, but I had decided that the sun was too strong to be missed and if they could find some comfort and late autumn forage then so be it! For too long will they be confined in the run, or even the coop on some days during the season of ice, so I wanted them to be out as much as possible!

After stowing my possibles, I strode out to their enclosure intent on letting them free and they gathered by the door in ready anticipation. I knew that once I opened that door they would come spilling out a la three (nine) stooges style.

As my hand fell to the door latch, Coq Au let out a mighty growl (mighty by chicken standards, anyway). My hand hesitated and sure enough … unbeknownst to me, a large bird of prey who had been perched nearby took wing and flew off at a height of about six or eight feet and not ten yards to my left! Sure, he was retreating, but with the leaves all but gone for the hens’ tree cover and the birds of prey having grown hungry, my second mind decided that the flock should stay safely in their run!

Extra rations of treats were distributed and full military honors bestowed upon my cantankerous rooster and I went about the business of refreshing their feed and water.

The thought struck me. That raptor probably knew that the chicken run was very secure. Was he waiting in hiding for me to let the flock out? Maybe. But Mrs. Rabbit!

Gratefully, I did not see any pieces of rabbit, nor was that bird carrying anything off … potential meal thwarted! But neither did I see the rabbit!

Thankfully, as I was about my tasks, she did make an appearance in the underbrush about a half an hour later.

“Go on, you!” I shouted. “Get ye back in that brush!”

I didn’t want to seem cross, but I wanted her to retreat to safety in case the marauder was still lurking about. Sure, hawks, falcons, buzzards, and vultures need to eat too, but NOT my chickens and I’d rather they left the rabbit alone as well! Thus far she has avoided the neighbor cat who seems a half-hearted hunter at best, hopefully she could stay vigilant against the sky as well.

My mind fell back to Coq Au once again. Had he not alerted me, I might’ve missed that raptor and one of those hens might have been an easier target that a wily wild rabbit.

Damn, but he’s good at his job!

Going Home: The Brave Boys part II.

With November in full swing I needed to discuss with my wife the particulars of when and how we were to dispatch our two young roosters Marvin and Bubba in time for Thanksgiving. I was reluctant, but determined to do the hard thing. Being late season babies, I didn’t want to see them come to their full maturity in the dead of winter and cause REAL trouble at a time when the flock would be much more confined.

She and I chose the day, but with both of hearts against the task, she advised that I make ONE MORE effort with my chicken sources to rehome them. We had decided then that if there could be a home for them where they would live and thrive, that would be the best situation. If the only takers where those inclined to butcher the birds for the meat, in accordance with our beliefs we would politely decline and do the hard task ourselves. We both feel it is only right that the burden of a sentence of death should be carried out by ourselves who are responsible for their lives.

With these thoughts in mind, rather than reaching out to the chicken network exclusively, I put it out on the Facebooks to the general population. My friends, chicken keepers and non chicken keepers alike, shared and tagged people and within an hour I had a weak lead and a strong lead. I asked the weak lead to please stand by. The strong lead turned out to be a friend of a friend only one town over who wanted to see a better photo of the birds. I’m not handy with a camera, so I suggested that she stop by at her leisure and see the birds for herself live and in person.

Grateful to report that she was able to stop by early the next day!

I let the flock out while isolating Marvin and Bubba inside the run so that she could take a close look uninterrupted once she arrived. In the ensuing time, Marvin whined inside the run over not being allowed out and I felt so sad for him, yet I knew that these moments of separation might just lead to a full life for he and his brother.

A woman called Missy arrived in good spirits and she, my wife, and I wandered into the run to have a look. I cornered the birds, and being young and unsure, they were fairly easy to catch. I was able to grasp Bubba and he was quite frightened, but calm none the less. I held the gentle nervous boy and he said nothing. Missy and I talked for some time. She has a sizable flock and land and so does her cousin who would be interested in the other roo. We talked about her situation and experience with roosters. I gave a full account of my observations about their personalities and how I thought they might conduct themselves once fully grown … along with the caveat that with roosters … it’s always a craps shoot.

Bubba wriggled a little now and then as I held him and was clearly nervous, but said not a word. Missy asked if she could hold him and I carefully transferred Bubba to her arms. She held him close and although still nervous, he immediately grew calmer than he had been.

She decided then and there to take both roosters and one would be going home with her for her own flock and the other would be going to her cousin who also had a flock. It is a statistical anomaly to find a home for TWO roosters with full flocks to live and thrive with and I hope my two boys comport themselves respectfully!

Then a positively magical thing happened. One of those things that reaffirms the mysteries of life.

As Missy was holding Bubba, and I collected Marvin, Marvin voiced his fear and displeasure about suddenly being thrust into the scary situation of being handled. Coq Au Vin, off in the yard, abandoned the hens and came running over to find out just what was happening to his boys!

Remember, dear reader, these are the young princelings that were already starting to challenge their father. This was the king who already had to assert his authority more profoundly each day.

This was the king … if you have read my previous posts regarding A Tale of Two Roosters that had once been dethroned and brutally tortured by his own son just two seasons back.

Here he was … like a king … defending his flock. Didn’t matter what they were capable of. Didn’t matter that he already had experience with how wrong this could go. These birds were part of HIS flock and they were alerting him that they were scared and in trouble.

Marvin, once grasped, calmed down and Coq Au kept a close eye on us voicing his contempt as we crept past him to bring the birds to this nice woman’s car.

I was able to maneuver Coq Au into the run as we exited and isolated him. He was not happy. I didn’t blame him!

Missy opened her hatch back, and I placed a bird into one of the boxes she had brought. “what the DUECE???” he exclaimed and a short game of ‘rooster whack-a-mole’ ensued as with each closure of a box flap, a rooster head popped out of another. A little careful handling and some tape that my resourceful wife quickly produced, and the birds were secure.

Missy, my wife, and I chit chatted for a bit longer and she left to bring the boys to their new homes.

Herself and I are ever so grateful that these lives are spared. We met a new friend along the way, and Coq Au was released back into the yard to see to his flock. Even my wife was astonished at his protective nature and we spoke to him and about him with great reverence.

At over three and a half years, we are still surprised by him, though I suppose we shouldn’t be after all.

And wouldn’t you know it? Later on that day Missy (who also keeps a few ducks) sent this photo of Marvin and Bubba already making new friends!

 

 

And SPEAKING of Respect.

And SPEAKING of Respect.

“Coq Au, did you know that people are reading about you on every continent?” I asked.

Turns out, that these blog things that seem to be all the rage keep track of various data and metrics. Not specific info, I hope, on specific persons who may stop by to see a blog, at least that info isn’t available to me and I wouldn’t want it to be. But it does tell me how many views, from which countries, and from what browsers, etc. I am fascinated by silly data like this. I can only assume that it is useful for those who are trying to monetize their blogs to be able to zero in on target markets or some such and of course, you can arrange to place ads and try to earn money by clicks and what not … BUT …

I assure you that MY blog will not become a click-bait factory, nor will I look to place ads within its confines! As such, neither am I inclined to invest a dime into this other than my time to relate the silly little chicken stories for no useful purpose other than to entertain myself and hopefully you, my fine readers.

That being said, if I ever do get around to writing that ebook, that I would at least try to link, make folks aware of, or what not … and hopefully, never to the point of annoyance!

Now, unlike those blogs I’ve heard about that feature photos of ladies in their underwear (or without their underwear, for that matter!), my blog counts its entire viewership since its inception in the thousands, and not in numbers encompassing some mass segment of the population.

But for those who are interested, at least ONE PERSON from the following list of countries has stopped by this blog to read about my humble flock at least ONCE:

United States
Australia
Bahrain
Bangladesh
Brazil
Cambodia
Canada
China
Dominican Republic
Ecuador
Estonia
France
Germany
India
Ireland
Israel
Italy
Japan
Luxembourg
Mexico
Mongolia
Netherlands
New Zealand
Philippines
Romania
Russia
Rwanda
Slovenia
Sweden
Taiwan
Thailand
Ukraine
United Arab Emirates
United Kingdom
Venezuela

That hits each continent at least once, if you leave out Antarctica, and that may only be because they don’t seem to collect data from there.

The implications for me are this … chickens are born every day. They live their lives however long or short to whatever purpose. But THESE few chickens … the specific names of the little flock owned by some kook in New Jersey are known SOMEWHERE in the world by SOMEONE. Love him or hate him, Coq Au Vin and his flock mates will not pass from this world entirely unnoticed.

“You may want to show a little gratitude. I’ve helped you become world famous.” I sardonically intoned to my otherwise ungratefully foul fowl.

Nonplussed, he merely replied: “I’d be a lot more grateful if you’d include more breadcrumbs when you’re handing out treats, you stingy bastard.”

Some folks are never satisfied.

Oh well.

I invite you to share this blog. Infect other people with the doings of an angry rooster and the foolish man with infinite patience that has to deal with him.

At the very least, it is a good escape from the issues of the day!

Couldn't Care Less.

In the late fall evenings before the clocks change I still have just enough time to get home and see my flock before they go in for the night. I know in another week it'll be dark and they will be long abed before I've returned from work, so now is the time to give them treats when I can.

Gone are the long summer evenings where there is still enough light to let them out lf the run for a stretch, so they are penned up more than I'd like. Coq Au has practically become a regular gentleman who is disinclined to join battle with me and content to glare.

Marvin, on the other hand, is becoming a handful. He's still young, but he already tries to mount some of the girls, much to their loud protests. He doesn't dance. He doesn't offer treats. He grabs a girl and tries to get 'er done did. Thus far, as I can see, he has been unsuccessful. In fact, as young as he is, the older hens are quite capable to chide and chase him all on there own, and yet this puzzles me.

This evening, as I witnessed the reoccurring sight once again, I asked Coq Au about it.

"Coq Au, are you not going to respond to the ruckus that this young roo is causing?"

"Naw, dawg."

"What so you mean 'Naw, dawg'??? It's kind of yurt job to sort this out!"

"The hens are doing fine on their own ..' after the last roo, I'm not getting involved. This is YOUR problem, and I'm not gonna let you pass it down the chain to middle management."

"Oh, I see. Getting too old, are we?" I goaded him.

"Old? Watch this."

With that, he calmly strides into the midst of the flock pecking at treats and the two young roosters scatter brusquely to any place but where Coq Au is.

"You see that? That's called 'respect'. I'm not getting involved unless I have to. You should try that sometime."

"I should ... what???" His attitude, while not aggressive, per se, had me on the edge of apoplexy.

'You should try it sometime.' indeed!