Smitty Is A Cock!

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Now I know what you're thinking after reading the title of this blog entry.

You're thinking: "Smitty is a cock? No duh. Tell us something that we *don't* know."

Well, that is what I am about to do.

Back in the early spring, I purchased 26 baby chicks for Miss Penny Lee Cooper.

("We knew that already")

Hold your horses, dammit and hear me out!

The chicks were mailed overnight (no kidding) to Penny in Bainbridge, Ohio. Since it is impossible to tell a male chick from a female chick, the Mount Healthy Hatchery simply promises that you will receive at least three roosters or cocks. Penny had decided on the Cincinnati-based hatchery and it sounded good to me. I mean, if you are looking to purchase the by-product of chicken carnal knowledge (i.e. "coitus chickensus"), what better name for a hatchery than "Mount Healthy."

To my great delight, Penny had agreed in advance - after some coaxing from an individual who has asked to remain anonymous - to name the studliest of the guaranteed three roosters "Smitty" in my honor.

The baby chicks very quickly outgrew their small cage inside one of Penny's sheds, and so she, her son, and his girlfriend, built a wonderful pen. This pen is attached to a larger shed so the chickens can have a covered area if necessary. The new and much improved lodging for the chickens was proudly named "Coop's Coop," in honor of the Cooper family name.

The chicks continued to grow at an amazing pace. Several of them started to display slightly more aggressive behavior. These chickens also appeared to be somewhat larger, and began to develop "combs." Penny decided that the one that was the biggest of this small subset of chickens/maybe roosters was probably going to be "Smitty."

On my next trip to Penny's, I met the chosen chicken. I was very proud to see that he had a beautiful feathery coat of gold and grey.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."Smitty?" . . .


Unfortunately, not long after Smitty received his christening and became my studly namesake, Penny's brother decided that Smitty might not be a "fella" after all. I immediately suggested to Penny that we tentatively change Smitty's name to "RuPaul" and just in case (I suppose "Reverse Rupaul" would have been more accurate). And so that is what we did.


. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . .. . . or "Reverse RuPaul?"


Last weekend, as per usual, Penny was working in her various gardens, when she heard what she described as a "godawful croaking" sound from Coop's Coop. When she walked over to the pen to investigate she saw "Smitty/Reverse Rupaul" attempting to . . . you guessed it - crow!

The mystery had been solved.

Smitty was a cock!

Penny also reported that after each painfully weak attempt at "crowing," Smitty would quickly prance around the pen as if he was king of the world (i.e. "the shit").

Apparently, Smitty is continuing to hone his crowing skills. He has also begun to receive informal voice lessons from a distant tutor. An adult rooster down the road from Penny's house will occasionally let out a full-bodied and proud crow, and Smitty will respond with his charming, and slowly improving, "croak of death."

I say: "Good boy, Smitty! You show 'em who's boss! And like all of us - you will find your true voice in due time"



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."SMITTY!!!"






NEXT! . . . on "Coop's Coop" . . . an unwelcome visitor crashes the party and the chicken count dwindles to twenty-five . . . or is it twenty-four?

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