It sounded to me like some person choking.
I had just walked up to open the door to enter the building where my birds are kept, and it happened again. The first thought that raced to my mind was, “Who in the devil could be in there?” When I opened the door, I immediately had to rethink my thoughts – no one was there.
I stood silent for what seemed to be an hour, but it was probably on the underside of a minute. It happened again, orienting from a pen with a half dozen young gold laced cochin bantams. One of the young roosters was learning to crow, and his straining efforts were certainly not going to win any prizes at a crowing contest.
But don’t go blaming him for the way he sounds – his daddy doesn’t do a great deal better. They have a rasping, choking crow that thankfully doesn’t carry too far and sounds like they are trying to clear their throat, you’d think, as a heavy smoker in the morning. It is a sound that is capable of making small dogs cringe, babies cry and cats seek residency in a domain located someplace other.
But, believe it or not, the gentle personality of the breed in general makes up for any discrepancies. There is no better creature deserving of a place of honour in your garden to eat up the invading creepy-crawlies that chomp, chomp, chomp on your veggies and posies, than a trio of gold- laced cochin bantams.
The gold laced cochin is a breed of bantam that is brinking on the edge of extinction. The breeders that exist across North America, both above and below the 49th parallel, have become fewer and farther between.
I never liked a breed of chicken that had feathers that covered its feet. So cochins of any kind, size or colour never really turned my crank, but midterm of the last decade that all changed.
I had picked up a very tame silver Sebright cockerel that was perched on the hand of a chap at a local buy-sell-trade day. He said that he was asking for five dollars just to find it a good home. I handed him a 20 and, not waiting for change, walked away with the cute little guy tucked, head out, in my side vest pocket.
My Little Lady loved the creature and immediately took him out to the garden where she was cutting flowers, getting ready for a Horticulture Flower Show. When she came in with arms loaded with flowers, I questioned why she had left him so soon, as he doesn’t know where he is. “Yes!” she stated calmly, “But I do, and he has just gobbled a tummy-full of high-protein bugs.” With that, she tumbled her armload of flowers onto the kitchen table, reached into her across-the-lap signature apron pocket, and handed me the little silver rooster. But the story doesn’t end there.
Later that week a distant rural route neighbour horticulturist dropped in to see us, and noting the little rooster, she immediately stated, “I have a good friend for him. I’ll bring her in. She will keep him company.” A more correct statement could not have been uttered, as their friendship immediately clicked. They scampered, cluck, clucking, around the garden as though they were longtime friends that had just discovered hidden secrets in the Garden of Eden.
But the bird she brought in was not a silver Sebright; it was a gold laced cochin bantam hen. That was my introduction to the rare breed that I just happen to have fallen in love with.
But I’m out of space for now, so tune in to Gold laced cochins II, which will be hatching, I’m sure, from the Wellington presses in the not too distant future.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barriehopkins@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105