Well, there he is. It’s not the greatest chicken picture in the history of Western Civilization, but it gives you an idea. What we should have done is have the chicks come up alongside him for a size comparison—we’re pretty sure Tubaloth and Fang are banties, since they’re half grown and only the size of a large grapefruit. Absalom is ginormous by comparison. The chicks probably don’t even come up to his chest.

Absalom has come into his own. He ignores the ducks, lords over the hens, acknowledges Jessica (the bringer of food), flaps at Emma, and crows at me. Fortunately his crow is no louder than the rooster he deposed; we’re sensitive about being good neighbors and a loudly crowing rooster ain’t neighborly if the neighbors are trying to sleep in. (As for us, we sometimes sleep in until 6 am. There’s just too much to do to waste the morning hours!)

If you can guess what breed he is, you WIN!! What do you win? A toilet box, of course! No, that’s not right. Um, yours will be the pride of knowing you were right. And the only way I know if you’re right (since I don’t have any idea what breed he is) is if the majority of contestants agree with you. I guess we don’t really care, as long as we get a good crop of chickens out of him. I wonder if chicks hatch in January; I always think of them as a spring crop. We’re about to find out.