First thing I noticed was this robot doesn't have shoe laces. It's got LOAFERS!

I would think anything that mimics a human should be smart enough to tie shoe laces for a pair of Gucci Rooster Leather Brogues. Am I right?

I'm not impressed.

Fairly typical for chooks to do this in my experience. Mine sometimes follow me around in a group even when I don't have food for them.
They also communicate to each other that food is available which kicks off the flocking behaviour. Some roosters will yell when they notice a food source and wait for hens to eat before they do.

He ate chicken because they fed him chicken.
I doubt they gave him freshly dead entire chicken corpses to ponder over.
He was only doing what Roosters do.
So much melodrama.
Next...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_lkVzzd6rE

If the rooster got laid once in a while it probably could have lived a longer life. No wonder he was such a cock.

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First rule of rooster hypnosis:
Don't. Erase. The. Line.

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One sample "weird chicken behavior" is psychotically aggressive bantam (miniature) roosters.

Too small and ill equipped (not much spur, etc.) to do any damage to a human, but they *act* like they think they are velociraptors or something. Bring food in, fill their water, get vaguely close to them ... they attack your feet. My dad taught me to put my shoe between their legs and lift/kick them into a wall -- pretty hard. Stuns / dazes them for a minute or so -- long enough to fill their feed or whatever. But stay longer than that and they'll be right back to attacking your feet.


On the female side, hens sometimes choose very bizarre locations to lay their eggs. We had a metal cylindrical feeder thing with a tray at the bottom -- fill cracked corn or whatever into the cylinder (open on top), and it will gravity flow down as they eat some out of the bottom tray. We had one hen that liked to jump in the top of that cylinder (maybe 10 inch diameter) and then lay eggs on top of the food in there. Extremely tight fit, no room to move -- like putting your arm in a Pringles can. Sometimes she got stuck if the surface of the food was too far down.

I've even seen a hen that sat on the surface of a bough in a cedar tree. Enough branch and cedar foliage to hold up the hen's body, but then we found an egg right under her on the ground -- not dense enough material to actually keep the egg from falling through. The egg was broken, but the hen just stubbornly sat in that tree for a day or two, not realizing what had happened.

That thing makes so many sounds that a rooster shouldn't make.

Here in Nashville you are allowed to have chickens and roosters in your backyard in a residential neighborhood. He nailed it, that's all I freaking hear all day.

What do roosters want?!?

I grew up on a farm, and my dad used to work hard to lodge a rooster's head between two railroad spikes so that he could extend the neck and dispatch the rooster with a quick axe/hatchet to the neck. The rooster knows something is up, so it is scared and looking for any possible escape, and it takes a lot of work to get/hold them in position. Then an older fella visited the house one time and showed us this technique.

Yep, it works so well that you can just draw the line, lay the rooster down and "hypnotize" it, walk away and come back with your axe ... and it'll just wait right there patiently until the thwock.

Of course, then it'll still get up and run around headless; but I am told that is more of a muscles unwinding issue than any result of headless consciousness.

I grew up on a farm, and like many/most such kids, went through the experience of having "pet" chickens, pigs, and even a cow or two that ended up on our plates. I think that the key is to explain verbally that such animals are being raised to be food, and then using your best judgement about when they are ready to see something small get slaughtered and butchered.

For me, it was when I was about 6. We had an old rooster (we mostly had chickens for eggs, this fella was a 1-off), and I was a few feet away when my dad held it down and hacked off its head with a hatchet. Got to watch it run around headless, etc. Then I had to help (a little) in the plucking and processing. If you don't regularly do those things, you don't know the little tricks and they take FOREVER. We put way more hours and dollars of toil and effort into plucking, skinning, and preparing that old chicken than it would have cost to buy 10 whole rotisseried chickens from KFC or something. And he was too old to really provide good meat. BUT - I learned something and appreciated the food more, which was the point.

Later in life I was involved with the raising of pigs and cows for meat. I helped feed them every day, and then would help get them into a trailer and deliver them to the meat locker when it was time for them to be slaughtered and butchered. I didn't witness that in person, but I was old enough to fill in the gaps between putting that animal in the trailer and then eating a steak or pork chops a few days later. I think that if my parents had wanted me to have the experience of actually seeing the slaughter, the locker would have easily obliged. Not sure if the same would be true today.


OK, I've been rambling but I'll throw one more thing out there. Now I'm living in Thailand, where a lot of food is purchased in small farmer's market kinds of places, and some is slaughtered and prepared right in front of your very eyes. I love eating fresh Tilapia fish here (the "farm"-raised and frozen fish back in the US always tasted like algae to me, but the fish here don't have that taste at all) and they are alive in tanks when you order one at a market in Thailand. Within 45 seconds, they will pull out a fish of your selection, smack it on the head with a blunt instrument to kill it, rasp off the scales, gut it, put some slices into the sides for even cooking, and hand it to you in a bag to be cooked at home. Sometimes they flop around in the bag a bit (not alive, just muscles unwinding/relaxing) like a headless chicken. I think that will be a similar growing experience for my daughter that she'd be able to witness at a much earlier age. Then maybe when she's 5-6 like I was we'll watch a chicken get the axe.

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