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Edgar’s Mission Passport
Roost
Roost
Silkie Rooster
11th January 2023
An abandoned meat farm
Roosting
Being freed from my tiny cage
Certified true likeness
Roost’s story
Roost
Updated February 2, 2023
The word roost, depending on its use, is either a verb or a noun. As a noun it describes “a place where birds or bats regularly settle or congregate”. As a verb it describes the act of doing so.
It is also the name of our dear featured Silkie rooster friend. So named because of his penchant for doing so. Just over a week on from that fateful day when the plight of hundreds upon hundreds of sweet Silkie chickens came under our radar. And so too our kindness.
With the closing of the door on that putrid place one last time just days ago, a new and far brighter chapter in their lives has opened. A chapter where the despair that once wrapped its tentacles around just about everything has given way to the hope that hung in the heart of every one of those feathered little wonders.
As each day rolls on, and our boys crow along with it, their little Silkie personalities are bubbling to the fore
A poignant reminder to us all to never, ever, give up hope, for it keeps our dreams alive.
With all of the dear little hens already settling into their new coops and the hearts of those who have taken them in, it now remains our challenge to find equally special homes for the remaining lads.
Some 200 of them.
And as each day rolls on, and our boys crow along with it, their little Silkie personalities are bubbling to the fore.
Like this guy, Roost.
From his first day in our care, Roost knew just where he wanted to be. And that was not scratching about in the foreignness of the soft golden straw that was now his new diggings. Rather than exploring every inch of it for its many treasures, just like his buddies, he, and he alone, had chosen his place. And that was roosting high above them.
We even set up a little feeding station for him there so he can survey his realm without having to get his feet “wet” in the straw.
A far crow from the steely, in form and favour, wire flooring that was the only barrier between him and the ever-building pile of excrement that sat below – this, a drinking nipple and metal food receptacle, the only trappings, save flies, rodents and filth, in his impoverished life.
Perhaps a king in another life, Roost is now certainly one in this. And rest assured that is how he shall live forever more. Roosting wherever he wishes, and chances are, if you ever have the joyous pleasure to meet him, he will quickly do so in your heart.
Because that is exactly what he does best!
