Preacher is the head of farm security at Coal Creek Farm. He speaks English with a Columbian accent he learned from our neighbors that stuff him full of tamales, enchiladas, tacos and spiced beef. He’s great at guarding the farm except when a rogue raccoon invades the barn that is bigger than he is, then he just tells us where the creature is and hides under our bed for the rest of the day. He’s Preacher, the farm dog.
“Attenshion chumans dat leev in my house! Could chou all gater round dis plasteec bin, I have nouncement.”
“De baby cheeks, de have arrived. I will seecure de preemises to insure der safety. Dey are vedy cute leetle tings, no?”
“Masteer Clay, I promeese wid all my hart dat I weel protect dem. I promeese. Also, sorry bout de smelly gasses I had las night, dos tomales were so deeleeshush. Kay? I love chou.”
“Jees, I love chou little babee cheeks.”
“Now, could sombodee opeen de door? I need to bark at de weend and sky. And I dink de hot tamales are stirring in my gut again. K? Tank you.”
This is our Polish Crested rooster, Rockstar and his little Americauna girlfriend, Gimpy. They were excommunicated from the rest of the flock that lives in the coop. Gimpy survived a serious butt kicking that left her near death, half her back was missing thanks to her fellow carnivorous chickens. She was at the very bottom of the pecking order. I’m not sure anyone was above her, she was the favorite to peck. I found her hiding in a dark corner of the coop behind the roost, not moving. I scooped her up and put her in isolation in the barn. I was certain she was going to die, just any second now, that chicken will die…why isn’t she dead? Everyday I would think, “Should I put her out of her misery?” But, she was eating and drinking and hobbling about, with half her back meat missing. It was so gross, I could hardly stand to look at her. Who wants chicken for dinner tonight? Who wants the back piece? Yummy! Anyway, day after day I would give her another reprieve and after a couple months her back finally healed, but she had a wicked limp. She continued to live outside the coop on her own, I would feed and water her and I gave her free reign of the farm. Preacher,our farm dog, never bothered her, in fact he protected her from all the other wild critters that could have easily snatched her. Sometimes I would see her resting by our barn cats in the barn. She eventually started laying eggs again. I would find a pretty green egg in the hay bales where she made a nest.
Then one day I noticed Rockstar had been roughed up by our big rooster a bit too much, so I let him out of the coop for a break. Rockstar is missing at least two toes. At one point he was totally bald because that tuft on top of his head is irresistible to some of the hens. He’s a total wimp of a rooster, but I’ve always liked him. He walks a bit funny because of the missing toes, sometimes it looks like he’s marching. When Rockstar saw Gimpy, it was true love. They go everywhere together, when I let some of the other chickens out Rockstar and Gimpy stay even closer. They are a flock of two and they like it that way.