The Trials and Tribulations of Buttons

Some of you might not know I'm a southern girl transplanted to the West, but I was always a country girl. Still am. Which leads us to Buttons.

Buttons is my black silkie rooster. Recently Buttons has been supplanted in his little harem by Junior, the much larger and MUCH younger rooster. You see, Buttons is 8 years old and Junior is only a little over 1. Yep, the inevitable happened and the young cock moved in on the old man's ladies.

Buttons is not taking it well.

Today he started a new phase in his campaign of harassment: he's plucking Junior's tail feathers out, one by one.

Now Junior is mighty proud of them tail feathers. And, truth be told, they are right pretty. Black with the deepest emerald sheen. And long, oh so long. So I guess he can rightly be proud of them.

Back to the campaign of harassment. Buttons no longer waits in hiding to bowl Junior tail over tea kettle, using guerrilla hit and run tactics. Oh, no. Now he stalks alongside of one of my dogs, darts under said pup's belly, grabs hold of a tail feather and then bolts back to his place of safety, feather in his beak.

Junior is left, mad as a wet hen, as it were, wondering what just happened. Although, I suspect he has a couple of notions.

Junior still has the ladies, but Buttons is on top of the dog house, a growing collection of trophy feathers at his feet, crowing to the world about yet another successful raid.

Junior might well be naked as a jaybird before all is said and done. Naked is not a good look when it isn't even springtime in the Rockies yet.

Like they say, growing older just means you get sneakier.