Day 132.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: one – it was raining. Feed hopper: quarter full. Brain: woolly from too much rain.

It was raining again so we were inside quite a bit of the day. Steve, Brian and I got to discussing bantams. They have only seen one (when they were younger and went to the big room full of chickens and staring people and the female person rescued them and took them home), but he sounds like the smallest rooster I have every heard of, even smaller than Billy Bob (and Dog knows he was small).

Billy Bob was a Buff Peking bantam rooster and a sound lesson in what overbreeding can lead to. He came to Pecka Pecka in the company of three Buff Peking bantam hens. I can’t remember their names, but they laid small eggs, had small brains and couldn’t successfully raise one little chick between the three of them. What is the point of a small chicken? And the roosters are real mean, Jack says. It’s ‘small rooster syndrome’ where they have to act tough to feel like they can rub wings with the big guys. They crow pathetically too, all high and squeaky – sort of like they have cold boy bits.

Steve, Brian and I all agreed that Jack is just the perfect size for us and that size does matter.