If you’ve ever raised chickens from chicks, you know the thrill of watching them grow—the way they fluff up their feathers, learn to scratch, and eventually cluck and crow their way into your heart. But sometimes, amidst all the joy, you’re faced with a tough reality: not every fluffy bundle is a hen. And as much as I love the striking beauty and proud strut of a rooster, I’ve learned that keeping them all just isn’t practical.

The first crow always gets me. There’s something so bold, so brave, about a young rooster finding his voice. My Dominique boys are especially handsome—classic barred feathers, alert eyes, and an air of importance that’s hard not to admire. But then the chasing starts. The sparring. The sudden tension in the coop. And I know it’s time to make a decision. Too many roosters can stress out the hens, fight among themselves, and cause more harm than good, no matter how attached I’ve become.

Letting go never gets easier. It’s the part of homesteading no one really talks about—the emotional weight of doing what’s best for the flock. I always remind myself that raising animals means respecting the balance of nature and the needs of the group. Still, every time I part with a rooster, I thank him for the role he played, however brief. Because in the end, this life is about care, connection, and making the right choices—even when they’re hard.