It's just after 11 a.m. AZ time, and it's only 69*F. A week ago, at this time, it was usually 104*F. That's the thing about this area. There isn't much in-between. Next week, it could be in the hundreds again.
This morning, I went into the chicken pen and gave the chickens some food, then I took their water bottle out to re-fill it. When I came back with the water, the rooster attacked me. Well, as much as a chicken can. He pecked me near the ankle, twice.
I don't know if he was mad (angry) at me because I stopped letting them out, or if he's old enough now to be aggressive. In any case, I decided he'd be better off in a stew pot or a frying pan. We could use the food, anyway. Fresh ground homemade bread is great, and I like beans, but a little meat added would be good.
I was letting the chickens out in the hopes they would keep the weed growth down. I didn't notice much change in the weeds, but I did notice a change on our front porch. It's a huge porch. I'd guess it's about ten feet by thirty, covered with a severely leaky roof. Our washing machine is there. I was having to wend my way through chicken poop. It washed off with the hose, but the chicken coop isn't tiny, especially for only four chickens - so, finally, back they went - 24/7. So, perhaps, Mister Macho didn't like it.
I was supposed to have four hens and zero roosters. Still, I understand that deciding the sex of a newly hatched chicken isn't too easy. I wanted eggs that were not fertilized. That way, I'd know I wasn't eating a baby. I adapted, when the rooster turned out to be a he instead of a she. I visualized babies running around next year. Now, I've reverted to my original plan.