It is a sad day for Tony. Roy Boy died. We probably should have put him down a couple of months ago – his legs were really bothering him, but Tony couldn’t do it to his pet rooster. Roy was seven years old. We hatched him from our own eggs, the son of our first great rooster, Rocky (a white rock). Roy was a white rock/barred rock cross (real name, Silverado). I called him “Rado”, Tony called him “Roy Boy”. He imprinted on us, and would run to us for protection when the roosters were sparring for supremacy.
The first time he came running and jumped up on my back was quite a surprise. It got so we could hold our arm out and call him and he would come and jump up and let us walk around with him. He would go for rides in the pickup with Tony, and entertained the folks at Keeseville Country Gardens more than once. Tony enjoyed the double takes other drivers would do when they saw a rooster looking out the window.
He had not looked chipper the last few days, and we found him dead this morning. My camera is broken, so just take my word for it – he has a monumental headstone. We paid good money to have boulders cleared off this land, but Tony took the tractor down and slid the front bucket under a big boulder. Bigger than he realized. He had dug a hole between the roots of the nice ash tree, within the brooder house fence, and buried Roy Boy there. This meant had to drop the boulder over the 5 foot fence. Then we had to lever it into place. This is a ridiculously big, heavy boulder. My camera is broken, or I would take a photo to prove it.
Strut is proving to be a good rooster, but I doubt we will have another Roy Boy.
