It just so happens that Bob is the luckiest rooster that ever lived. Really. I'm considering a Vegas trip for the boy. In an odd turn of events, Bob's life has been spared.
For the past couple of weeks I'd noticed the dogs sniffing around the chicken runs. I just assumed they were looking for dropped morsels of chicken treats. Because if you asked them they're plum starved to death. Never mind they're so fat they can barely make it out the door together. Anyway, I didn't pay much attention to the sniffing.
Early Saturday morning, while the knives were being sharpened, I proceeded about my usual chicken chores. First I let the Pirates out, then Bob and the girls, then I start tossing scratch grains out to keep them busy so I can go inside the coop in peace. I generally make a complete circle around the entire chicken compound, tossing it out evenly so everyone can get some. But this time I was stopped dead in my tracks about half way around. Some varmint had dug a huge hole next to the fence and would have gotten in had we not buried the hardware cloth a foot underground!
This very well may explain Bob's nasty behavior of late. It's possible something has been lurking around and Bob knew it. So Bob's really just trying to protect his turf and his ladies. *sniff* And to think he was a frog's hair away from becoming soup.
I apologized profusely to Bob, told him he was a very good boy and refilled the hole. This morning the hole was back again, not as big this time though. So we'll be keeping Bob around for awhile. We'll step back and let him do his job as night watchman. The lucky bugger.