Daars a hoener wat a eier nie kan lê.

Daars a hoener wat a eier nie kan lê.


Theo’s rooster is getting cock sure of himself. About a month ago, we acquired 2 hens and a cock. During the day the little black hens walk around pecking at things on the ground and chasing each other around under the assumption that anything the other one finds must be worth stealing. The rooster, now that he has settled, spends his time trying to cross our doors’ threshold. He seems to think we have bugs inside and he is determined to come in and find out where we keep our factory of dung beetles who industriously roll their balls crisscrossing our rondavel floor. Theo has taken to hiding behind the door with a dishtowel and when the rooster ventures too near, he jumps out of his hiding place to scare him away. I don’t keep score. Initially we weren’t sure if these fluffy black jobbies were hens or cocks since they showed the beginning signs of a growth thingie on their heads like that useless flappy thing cocks have. A month down the track and now it’s easy to see that they definitely are hens by the way they daintily dart around and they take their dust baths more femininely than the rooster. At night, the three sleep in a huge container which is a bit of a metal eye sore outside our door. Also, it has a toxic sign stuck on the outside. I don’t know what it was once upon a time used for but if we end up having green eggs with ham for breakfast then I guess there was a reason for the toxic sign. Anyway, about a week ago, the cock crowed for the first time. He was inside the container at the time and his crowing echoed extra loud. When Theo opened up to let them out, Mr Rooster strutted around, puffed up like some bigshot with a torch in his pocket. A bit like the Xhosa boys around here, who apparently after initiation suddenly think they are men and act all windgat. Well I s’pose if I survived a stunt in a hut with nothing but a blanket and a piece of dry bread while nursing my injured chopped penis I’d probably also feel I had the right to stick out my chest afterwards. The whole initiation thing is a touchy subject actually. It’s probably one of the few customs that are still a very important part of any teenage boy’s life especially here in the rural community. The boys must go through it to be recognised by the community as a man otherwise they will never command respect or find a wife. The way it interferes with school education is a big problem (besides the whole issue of it being done under unclinical conditions which could lead to fatal infections or Aids from using the same blade). The ritual usually takes place in December when a bunch of school boys go off for their “manhood training”. It is such a big buildup in their lives that it carries much more weight than year end exams at school. I’ve heard talk of fighting between the boys at this time as they suddenly feel the urge to display their manhood and puff up like Theo’s rooster.

The initiation is secretive to outsiders especially to women so I haven’t exactly been able to go up to any male students and together with a couple of hand signs thrown in to explain my English say “howzit man, so are you looking forward to your circumcision?”

During their stay at the special hut, the umkhwetha (the person who trains them) teaches the initiates about the responsibilities of becoming a man and once they have passed the test, they eat meat and go home men, free from their mothers’ apron strings. I understand their training is quite intense and the painted initiatives get little food and less sleep since they have to make sure that the fire burns throughout the night. I’ve also read that they shave their heads and that the hair gets burnt or buried in case a bird uses it to build a nest which is guaranteed to make you go mad. (I think the hair bit is relevant to anyone getting a haircut actually.) At the Arts and Culture Festival, a teacher told me that the boys who were dancing did similar dancing during the ritual and also that many mothers were unhappy that their boys had become disrespectful towards them after going through their rites and in fact came home smokers and drinkers. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find out more about this passage of rites the longer we stay here.

In the meantime, Theo’s rooster is getting too big for his hormonal boots. Just because the neighbouring roosters are answering his calls these days, without him having to step into his “auditorium” container for special effects, he now thinks he is entitled to jump the little fluffy hens who squeal with fright and try to run away. They are too frightened to dip their heads to eat when he’s around since it makes their bums stick up in the air like an invitation flag. I’ve noticed that they often stand with their backsides up against the wall while chewing the cud. If the rooster keeps this up I’ll send him with the next group of boys to the grass hut so that he can be trimmed down to size or mind you he’ll probably get cooked.

Those poor hens are in for a bum deal so I hope they figure out the pecking order to survive Cocky Locky’s rites.

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES AND THE CYCAMORE TREES

You send shivers up my spine

Do that to me one more time

Look at me, Look at me

Natures Toys

Red hot for you

Wanna share my morsel

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES AND THE CYCAMORE TREES

The birds around here are having a big fat jol. Its spring and they are flirting and fluffing like mad and stuffing themselves with insects and berries as they rush from tree to tree in the chase. It’s a bit like watching people on a night out on the town, except without the booze so there’s no waking up next to a stranger on a park bench in your underwear the next morning and feeling guilty. In fact there’s no guilt in animal procreation, just pleasure.
Many male species of antelope get very excited as they chase the females around then stick their noses up the females’ displayed end to check how horny they are. Some even go as far as gargling with a mouthful of the female’s urine and pucker their lips as if they are swirling a good red wine. I hope sheep don’t do the whole phlegmy tasty thing cos I’ve just remembered the curled lips and blanched tongue of the sheep’s head which I ate at the Calvinia Vleisfees.
Some snakes have 2 penises, ooee lucky them, while some drone bees loose theirs in a moment of ecstasy as they explode their whole tool box into the queen bees vaginal clamp. Ouch. Many male insects have their heads bitten off by the very excited females while they are still on the job and other male spiders become midnight munchies for the satisfied females. You’d think they’d have learnt their lesson after millions of years but clearly getting laid is more important. Poor male songbirds on the other hand don’t even have a penis yet they still get all a flutter at the thought of rubbing themselves against a willing female to touch vents.
Right now I’m watching the birds bonking in the Bitou bushes. The males are having noisy singing competitions to get the attention of the females who sometimes also join in. It’s sort of like what goes on in a noisy Irish pub except without the alcohol making it much easier for the birds to hold a note and harmonise in B flat. The males are fluffing themselves up and prancing around showing off their bright new spring colours, the same way that guys do their disco moves on the dance floor after a few tequilas. The females are coyly watching the display, urging them on and a fight is about to break out as the testosterone levels reach their limit. I watch a male chase his competition away and return to feed a berry to a flushed female in a last desperate act to get laid. He succeeds after all his efforts and she lets him touch vents for half a second. Most male animals don’t have much else to do other than eat and bonk so that’s probably why he doesn’t have time for a smoke break before being distracted by another inviting female. Mrs bird, who has just recently got her socks off, stocks up on the abundant berries and insects as any pregnant mother would and contemplates the most effective way to get hubby to follow her back to the nest. “I’ll bite your head off if you don’t come home with me right now” is a common line used by female praying mantises. Mmph, the conniving lengths some females go to.

It’s all about pheromones, hormones and testosterones. Animals must have high sex drives since yes they do seem to be preoccupied with spreading their genes but they do also enjoy getting laid. Foreplay can take days to play itself out before being culminated with the actual deed. Most female mammals and a few other species have a clitoris so yes they must enjoy it just as much as the horny males. Female mammals have a oestrus cycle releasing pheromones which drive the horny males into a frenzy. You don’t wanna cross the path of a male elephant is musth who can smell an inviting female from kilometres away. Move out the way. Horny bull coming through. So what happens the rest of the time. They still get horny. You don’t just stop thinking about getting lucky and I bet they have wet dreams. That’s why they try to bonk anything that moves. In fact it doesn’t even have to move. A rock will do but if they could get hold of a blow up doll I’m pretty sure it would be their first choice. Many primates give themselves a hand job, or even help each other out. And don’t think hand made tools used to reach into termite hills are the only tools out there in the wild either. National Geographics doesn’t tell you about the wooden dildos crafted by Orangutans. Next time you see a female elephant carrying a sausage tree pod around you’ll know what I mean.
So what’s the difference between the mating game of animals and humans?..... PMS?