Crowing Hen Mystery Continues

I mentioned a while back that I thought one of my six hens was crowing, but I wasn't sure. With roosters, there is never a question of whether or not they are crowing. Roosters crow at the drop of a hat, and not just at sunrise. And they crow especially whenever anybody goes near the hen yard, so you can easily see who is doing it. He stands as tall as possible,flaps his wings, fluffs up his tail, stretches his neck way up and back, opens his beak and lets fly. If you stand next to a crowing rooster, your ears will actually hurt.

For a couple of months this summer the hens were living out in the field, inside their portable fence, so I couldn't hear whether there was crowing in the morning, but now that they are back in the chicken shed, I can hear every word. And one of those words is a perfectly clear, if subdued, cock-a-doodle-doo. I hear it between six and seven a.m., as I'm getting ready to go to the chicken house to serve breakfast. But I only hear it once or twice, and the crowing never happens when I'm with the flock.

So I cannot figure out which of my hens is doing this. I'm sure it's one of the three Buff Orpingtons, because I remember hearing the sound before we got the three new hens. But which one is it? I have scanned them for signs of masculinization--the floppy comb, the spurs on the legs, and the long tail feathers which are the poultry equivalent of a mustache. But the three B.O.s continue to look as matronly as ever, with their short legs, rounded figures, and girly little combs. Nor--though it's hard for me to tell, since they are as alike as three peas in a pod--is one of the three more dominant than the others.

Of course it may be that the crowing hen is not crowing to assert dominance. It may be that she's just crowing to communicate information: "sun's up, let's go lay an egg!" Or it may be that the crow is her way of calling for breakfast, and that she continues to do it because it works, every time.

Some Sexual Aberrations Among Our Critters

Forgive me if I seem to have sex on the brain, but Bisou has been in heat for what seems like several months now, and it's hard to think of anything else. If we didn't have Wolfie, it wouldn't be so bad. But Wolfie, despite his neutered state, is much taken with this new phenomenon, and is glued to Bisou 24/7.

I've had to refill the dogs' water bowl more often lately, because of all the fluid that Wolfie is losing through his tongue. Not only does he lick Bisou's girl bits, but also her head and ears, her neck, the towel on which she has sat, and the floor on which she has walked. The Red Baroness goes around looking dazed and bedraggled, her hair sticking out in points all over.

People ask me if Bisou has been in "standing heat" yet--that is the relatively short period (three days in a three-week-long heat) when the female stands still for mating instead of snarling at attentive males and sending them on their way. But Bisou has never snarled at Wolfie, never sent him away. She puts up with his incessant licking, and doesn't run from his attempts to mount her (which are pretty comical, given how much taller he is). I think that her love of attention trumps her hormonal states: in her case "standing heat" is an irrelevant concept.

Speaking of irrelevant--but aberrant--concepts, did you know that not one of all our male dogs, from 95 lb. German Shepherds to 11 lb. Shitzy-Poos, has ever lifted his leg to pee? They have all, though neutered, exhibited quite macho affects--especially the Shitzy-Poo, R.I.P. But they have all, every one of them, squatted like females.

And now, for the most aberrant behavior of all: this morning, at 7:10, one of our hens crowed. Several times. Enough that I could call my husband to the door and have him bear witness. No question about it: she was crowing. And in case you're thinking that a rooster had sneaked into the hen house under cover of darkness: 1. chickens don't sneak around in the dark; they go to sleep, and 2. our four hens are checked up on and locked in safely by me every night before I go to bed.

No, it was definitely a hen crowing. And she, whoever she is, is not turning into a rooster, because yesterday there were four eggs in the nest, one per hen. Of course, she could be turning into a rooster that lays eggs....

Around our place, you never know.