Cock-a-doodle no more
No longer will we have to warn our visitors not to take a short cut through the chicken field. Sid the cockerel has cocked his last doodle. No more will we have to find a stick before putting the hens to bed. My little joke about “the cockerel’s called Sid because he’s Vicious” will no longer bring a smile or groan to the faces of our guests.
Sid had a long and chequered history. Hatched out as one of two cocks some 6 or more years back, he somehow survived. First his twin brother disappeared without trace from a closed run, then he suffered some sort of stroke which left him unable to stand up for a couple of days, then a defensively aimed stick knocked him out! Somewhere along the line he also appeared to have lost the sight in one eye.
None of this made him any easier to deal with. Entering ‘his’ field took a certain level of courage and a big stick. One-eyed or not he knew where you were and how to rush up behind you to try to get a – very sharp – kick in. He once caught me out and launched his spur through my welly!
He was always on guard for his ladies, but the goshawk did manage to outwit him on a few occasions.
At least it will be a bit quieter at five in the morning.
RIP Sid.
Clip and photo by Sophie Windsor-Clive
Nant y Bedd 
RIP Sid. X
Yes, Poor Sid. He had a good life.