A cockfight can cause serious damage.

My Old Faithful rooster is sitting in a large cat-carry container in my living room.

He has a blood-encrusted comb and wattles and I’m not sure about his sight in one eye – all caused by Young Incumbent who thought his time had come to lead the flock.

I didn’t see or hear what must have been a blood-curdling cockfight. Two large Buff Orpingtons fighting it out like lions in the jungle.

Did the flock of 18 girls stand around cheering and jeering like onlookers in a playground fight? My money is on them running to hide under the hedge.

And so it happened, at the end of the day when the flock was almost into its night quarters, I looked up to see Old Faithful trudging wearily towards the chook shed. Horrified by his scabbed comb I followed him, picked him up without him protesting and sought the cat-carry container.

No squawk from Old Faithful when I picked him up indicated that the situation was bad. But it wasn’t until I got a better look that I saw the damage to his eye. 

His right eye was completely covered in thick, dried blood and I didn’t know whether he still had a right eye at all.

Have you seen the spurs on a large rooster? They’re capable of horrific damage if that’s the rooster’s intention.

I really couldn’t hold him and examine his eye properly so the cat carry container went onto the back seat of the car; we needed to visit the Chook Guru up the road.

Every regional town has one of these. A guru who’s experienced just about every chook conundrum there is.

He found an eye under the scabs and pronounced Old Faithful fit to carry on, if I could get him to eat and drink.

On night one I could only squirt water from a syringe down Old Faithful’s throat and shove a few bits of meat in too. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested and slept in the container in my bathroom. The half aspirin I gave him may have helped.

Night two, and he ate bits of meat by himself but I’m still squirting in the water. 

My hopes were lifted because I sat the container where he could look through the glass door at the girls gathering on the deck. 

I interpreted his throaty gurgles as pleasure but who knows what’s going through the mind of a half blind rooster?

On the morning of day three, he polished off a plate of pasta topped with canned mackerel. Things were looking up.

Since the Chook Guru cleaned up Old Faithful’s eye, it’s now half open but I can’t tell whether he can see anything.

A friend raised an eyebrow when I decided to keep two roosters. Should I have taken notice? 

Because none of my boys had been in a fight, I didn’t anticipate the damage that could be done.

But each morning when invalid Old Faithful crows from my bathroom at 4.30am, I am bluntly reminded of my doubtful decision to keep two roosters.

Young Incumbent will soon be on his way to a new home with some of the girls and Old Faithful will rejoin the rest of the flock in the chook pen.

Hopefully, happy chooks, happy life.