In the last post I told you about how Constantine the chicken ended up being a hen. Well, after relocating the ladies to my mother's backyard, we found out that Constantine was a rooster after all. How did we know? He started crowing.
Roosters are not allowed in Downtown Provo, so Constantine had to go. I left work to help my mom catch him, then we loaded him into the van to take him to a farm for dislocated urban livestock. Their ad assured that the animals are not killed or eaten, so I'm hoping that Constantine finds a good home with lots of hens to impregnate.
I'll try not to just write about chickens, I promise.
P.S. Doesn't Constantine look like a little dinosaur? I will miss him terribly.