Our local town is well-known for one thing: wild chickens. I'm not sure there is such a thing as "wild" chickens since chickens are considered domesticated, but we call them wild chickens nonetheless. I do know two people - one adult and one child - who were badly gored in the leg by some angry wild local chickens, so maybe the term "wild" fits afterall. Now that I'm in the big chicken circle of life, I'm convinced these were actually rogue roosters who attacked these people.
Rogue roosters. Wild chickens. It all makes perfect sense doesn't it?
Our local library has a lone rooster who roams the parking lot and lurks behind the book return bin. I'd say he's a bantam something-or-other because he's quite small compared to our hens. He is also surprisingly friendly for a wild creature of the outdoors.
He really is a beautiful little thing and pecks around the cars in the parking lot hoping for a handout. I'd say he's well fed because the parking lot is always littered with crackers and goldfish from the hoards of toddlers who show up for morning storytime.
My boys have decided that he must be a very smart rooster if his home turf is the library. I suppose that's why we call him Egghead.