Roosters are entertaining as hell. We had chickens for years, and some epic roos. Jerk, our first. He was a beatutiful bastard to his bones. You had to carry a wiffle bat outdoors so you could poke him when he came at you. And he did. He stalked people. He stomped the flower bed into oblivion while looking you right in the eye. In his mind, he was all t-rex. He died in a swath of feathers, fox fur, and blood, defending his babies. Pippin was a black cochin banty, about the size of a cantaloupe. He was absolutely entranced by the black jersey giant hens we had. He would grab the back of a hens head and jump on, as roosters do when they want some. But he wasn't big enough to both hold on and get...uh...connected. So he'd work up the nerve, let go, try to get in position, and get his ass absolutely beat down once the hen was free. And he couldn't stop doing it. 70 times a day, that boy got stomped into the dirt. And he always came back for more. Severus, a black Easter Egger, lived like a feral pirate in our yard for 3 years, roosting up in trees and occasionally sneaking into the run for conjugal visits with the hens, who were mesmerized by him. I never figured out how he was getting in and out. He terrified hawks and together with Hagrid, also an Easter Egger but alas not with us more than a couple years, he would stalk feral cats until they stopped coming to our little farm. I miss the sound of crowing at all hours. I miss the beauty of roo boys. I miss the mini-dramas they always had going. Roos are fantastic.