Boys... Really?

I really do think that if anyone is having boy problems, guy problems, husband problems, some sort of issue understanding the male gene they need to just come to our house, sit back, and watch our roosters.I think it would explain everything. 


We have two roosters. One, Two. Two. Two roosters that were supposed to be hens. What am I supposed to do with two roosters? Well, not a lot, I guess. They are good-for-nothing strutting featherballs that torment the kids and the hens. I am not saying all roosters are this way, but ours are. They seem to think their job is purely to let us know they own the place, yet they go running once I enter their domain. When I manage to catch one... I know, funny word picture, huh? Pregnant short lady waddling around chasing a rooster (who are incredibly fast, mind you), cornering one only to have it escape by running between her legs. Anyway, once you are done laughing keep reading... Again, when I catch one they always glare at me like I just took their man card. They struggle. I tighten my grip. They glare. I win. I always do.  Yet when I let them down they run off to a safe distance from me, spread their legs and stand tall, and get this... CROW! Like they just won a huge battle. Really? I totally had you in submission two minutes ago. It baffles me. But so does my husband at times...


Anyway, really it comes down to the fact that I won. Me. Yours truly. Why? Because they are getting butchered tomorrow. Take that roosters! Booya!