Outside looking in

The five outcast roosters are spending their days gazing through the plastic wall, or fence, at all the fun the others are having, and the hens prancing around.

Their coop is in the edge of the woods, but they have gravitated, in a group, to the side of the greenhouse.   They haven’t investigated too far. 

Not far enough to find the end of the fence.  It’s only one section now, to deter them from getting at the rest of the flock (it doesn’t take much).  There are enough roos in the mix, and I don’t want any of these guys’ genes. They’re just dumb, aggressive galoots; they spend all day scrapping with each other.  Not even pure Silkies.  Maybe not their fault they aren’t good for anything, but still.  What do I do with them?!

I can’t even caption them.  All I get is Duhhhhh.  Hen.  HEN.  Fight!  Duhhhh.

On the inside a couple of the new roos have shown that they have a brain, and some gumption, and have essentially self-selected for inclusion in the main flock (for now, until I make some arranged marriages).  Oddly, it’s only the black roosters that have distinguished themselves.  In my flock, the white roosters are the clever, trustworthy ones (the Colonel is a hero among roosters).