The tale of 40 roosters begins last June with the arrival of two cheeping boxes at the local post office.
The little cheepers numbered 50 in all, the idea being that approximately half of them would become the new flock of laying hens and the other half would become chicken dinner.
Alas, the plan went awry.
Even I, a novice chicken farmer and self proclaimed chicken hater, could see that the math was not quite working out 50/50. In fact, by the time July rolled around, I was guessing the male/female ratio to be right around four to one.
The final rooster count was 40, and a tale of 40 roosters and 13 hens has only one possible ending.
And so it happened that I broke my vow to never, ever pluck a chicken.
Sadly enough, one of the children grabbed my camera and documented the events.
The chicken farmer of the family had no qualms about the gutting process and dove right into the body cavity.
And so ends the tale of 40 roosters, which is the second installment of Backwards Blogging.