Gender Bender

Remember Brunhilde?

From the day the chicks arrived in early September, Brunhilde was the most assertive: the first to eat, the first to drink, the first to come for attention.

When all the other chicks were scared, Brunhilde would always venture forth.

She is a take-charge kind of girl.

Or rather, I should say, "was."

No, Brunhilde didn't die.

She crowed.

Yep, in the last couple of weeks, we'd noticed that Brunhilde continued to outpace her sisters in size. Gosh, even her comb was much larger than the other ladies'.

Some of us became a little suspicious of her, shall we say, persuasion, while others of us lived in denial.

It simply couldn't be true.

Then it happened. Early one morning as Sarah let the chickens out of the coop, Brunhilde ruffled herself up and let out a strangled, slightly mangled, "Cock-a-doodle-doo."

The revelation was met by shock, a few tears, and several "I-told-you-so's."

We finally had to acknowledge the truth.

Our little girl was actually... (gulp)... a guy.

What we had mistaken for femine assertiveness and henish sass turned out merely to be the result of testerone surging through her his hollow little bones.

If we lived in the country, having a rooster would be great.

Unfortunately, within the city limits, roosters are verboten.

Apparently city folks don't like to hear 'em crow.

Now, I love the sound of roosters crowing. It takes me back to the summers of my childhood spent on my grandma's farm. Bright and early every morning, the roosters would start in crowing. I find it a funny and comforting sound.

Alas, while de-crowing is possible, it certainly isn't humane.

Our days with Brunhilde Bruno are numbered.

Fortunately, our veterinarian has agreed to find him a good home; one that won't end in the soup pot.

We'll miss you Bruno.

And so will all your ladies...