My cousin’s wife’s brother in Vermont fought gamecocks, quite illegal and unusual up there I would think.
He gave us a rooster and some game hens and we added a few barred rock hens.
That was a great rooster, his combs and spurs had been cut for fighting, the spurs grew back. You could get him to crouch, flare his hackes and jump at you if you stuck a hand in his face like it was another chicken but he never started it.
They were free range and when you scattered chicken feed the game hens would come flying in three feet off the ground like pheasants. The game hens would hide their nests in the bushes and the chicks were striped like wild fowl. Ended up with so many I would break their eggs when I found the nests as birth control.
The barred rock hens OTOH were entirely comic and goofy. There was a old barn on the property and they would climb the inside stairs to lay eggs in the hayloft. Coming down they would invariably choose the hayloft window, look and look and look and then launch themselves into space, wings flapping furiously, hit the ground and bounce.
Once one snuck in the open kitchen door and laid an egg down the hall behind the couch 🙂
