That is the question. You see, Bob has some issues with social skills. Or the lack thereof. He's a friendly boy. He loves to sit in my lap and be petted. He's better behaved than my dogs. Certainly better than the cat.
He's a good enough looking fella, but he's not popular with the ladies. Presumably due to his um, how should I say this, um, approach? Yeah approach. You see, Bob's pretty clumsy. And well, he's young. And well, no one took all the boys in one room and the girls in the other and explained stuff. Stuff like, uh, what goes where and all that. So the poor boy is, uh, stumbling his way through it so to speak. And I must say doing it very, very badly.
So as you can imagine, the girls tend to react not so receptively. Which makes Hermie the Love Chicken angry. Because Hermie the Love Chicken is the all powerful protector of the flock, and nobody messes with his girls. So Hermie the Love Chicken doesn't care much for Bob either.
Which leaves only The Stew Brothers. When Bob was placed in the pen with The Stew Brothers it didn't last long. I don't know for sure which unwritten code of social chicken conduct Bob violated, but the feather's were flying and Bob's knees were nearly scratching his chin trying to get away from those guys. He ended up landing in the corner where he found a hole and buried his head. I don't think he planned to ever come out so I went in and got him.
I asked Blackbeard if Bob could stay with him and learn some pointers, but he said he's too busy taking care of his wenches and fighting off ol' Jack. He didn't think there was much hope for Bob anyway.
So we had to put together a place for Bob to live. A private bachelor pad. Where he can sit around and scratch himself or whatever unnoticed. Maybe once Bob matures a little more he can be reintroduced to society. If not, I may have to arrange conjugal visits. That is assuming he ever figures out what goes where. Anyone have a pamphlet I could slip under his cage?