He also carries Jack's leanings towards being a weaponized chicken. Here's his daddy Jack, with a look at Jack's spurs...those KNIVES he carried on his legs:
Now, Jack was beyond sweet, a very laid-back roo who would never dream of attacking a human with beak, wing or claw. Or spur, thank God. We could just walk up to him and pet him or scoop him up and carry him around at will. Phoenix is just like him. Which is a damned good thing, because yesterday Phoenix finally molted the end of one of his spurs (which I had been grabbing and worrying with my hand every so often over the last month or so, twisting it a wee bit in an effort to loosen it). Roosters are supposed to molt their spurs every so often as needed, and Phoenix had hung on to his WAY too long. I'm sure the hens, come Springtime and the mating season, will appreciate his shedding the stupid thing more than anyone--he had molted the other one back over the summer. So here is Phoenix's latest contribution to my rooster spur collection:
If it was straight it would be 6 1/2 inches long. Truly the definition of 'overkill'. This, by the way, is the cap--Phoenix still has a spur that is about 2 inches long on the shank of his leg.
Aw, my widdow sweetums Roo-Boy of Death...