Bruce Springsteen may be called "The Boss," but in our backyard, he who goes by that name is our 5 1/2-month-old cockerel, Boss. And at no time since our five heritage Rhode Island Reds (Boss, Johnny, Sweetie Pie, Baby, and Tootsie) arrived last May was this so apparent as it was Wednesday morning when Boss crowed for the first time.
As is his wont, Boss was the first one out of the henhouse, and as I was watching, I noted that he seemed more virile, I guess is the word. He shook himself, stretched his neck, then emitted a screechy, quarter formed crow with no ending whatsoever.
"Elaine, Elaine," I yelled, and she quickly came running from the house.
"Boss just crowed for the first time, did you hear?"
"No," said Elaine.
But as if on cue, Boss sent forth three more crows, all as weak, poorly formed, and truncated as the first one.
But crows they were as our young cockerel is on his way to being a rooster. I am so proud of my boy.