You got a saddle for that thing?

There is a new Sheriff in town and that Sheriff is named Mike. We got Mike back when the new chickens were first hatched. We figured if we grabbed a new rooster (this was to be Ted's replacement) when he was little, he would be raised with the new chickens and think he is one of them and to be honest, my theory was spot on! (Apparently I can be right from time to time.) He not only loves his girls, but he also is very good to them.

Now we have to try to get over a more delicate matter. That is the matter of his rather rotund girth. You see, Mike, in all his glory is a Jersey Giant. G-I-A-N-T. With all my bloody research about the perfect breed rooster, and all my searches on the internet, you would think that the word GIANT would ring a bell somewhere right? My hens are not giants. Do you see where I am going with this? Mike is amazing, he is nice, protective of his girls, he lets me carry him around, and his crow is very low key and quiet. These are all great qualities in the king of the yard and for this, we are so thankful. What I can't stand is how he steps on the hens and uh... the bare backs... oh the bare backs...

So I come to you good blog people of the internets... If you had the PERFECT rooster, what could you do to keep him from single handedly removing all of your hens feathers during *uh* a dance.... *cough*...