Winston went after Maria Sunday when she tried to pick up one of the hens in the barn. I was ready to shoot him on the spot, but Maria said no, she didn’t need two roosters fighting over their hens. She was right. He is not aggressive, but this was a situation where they were all trapped and nervous and he was doing his job. As he attached himself to her leg,  I kicked him halfway across the barnyard and he seemed to settled after that.

Yesterday I saw the most touching thing. Maria went over to him, sat down and told him in a soft voice that he was on probation, and if he did this again, he would be gone. I normally would have laughed at this, but I have learned not to laugh at Maria. For one thing, she is often right, and for another, is Sicilian, and you don’t want to laugh at them. Besides, the strangest thing happened. Winston cocked his head and listened quietly to every word she said, and as she moved about, he could not have been quieter. This has repeated itself.

My farmer friends say some roosters are just nasty and deserve to be dinner. Others just need to know they are not in charge. Like some dogs.

Maria is being cautious, but I think between the kick and the talk, he is getting the message. Maria maneuvered wisely among all of the testosterone. “You are not the biggest rooster on this farm!” I shouted. I think this will work out.