12/16/2025
In Memory of Diablo (our rooster)
I called him Diablo, and I should have named him something else. The name never fit him. It was clear to me from the beginning.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted chickens. I wanted to raise them, care for them, and gather my own eggs. When that finally became real, Diablo was there at the beginning.
Diablo and Buckwheat, a barred rock hen, were two of my first three chickens. They were given to me, and in many ways they became the foundation of everything that followed. Buckwheat is still here, steady and familiar, though I don’t know for how much longer, especially now that Diablo is gone.
Despite his name, he was the gentlest rooster I have ever known. In seven years, he never ruled with aggression or fear. He led with patience, calm, and a quiet confidence that never needed to prove itself. He understood his role and carried it seriously, not as a fighter, but as a protector, teacher, and steady presence. Some people will say it was just a chicken. But anyone who has kept animals knows the difference between needless aggression and earned authority.
He took care of his hens better than any rooster I have seen or heard of. When pecking orders formed and tempers flared, he stepped in before anyone was hurt. He showed new hens where to lay their eggs and kept peace in ways that felt instinctive and intentional. If there was a treat or a bug, he called the hens over first and waited until they were settled before taking his share. Tomatoes were the one thing he refused to share, and somehow that felt earned.
Diablo wasn’t the most beautiful rooster, but he was the best. Watching him move through the yard was grounding. He belonged there.
He was given to me in early 2019, and I believe he was at least seven years old. Typically roosters have a shorter life of 2-3 years, but they can live for 10 or more years in excellent conditions.
This fall, he was injured by a young rooster who didn’t accept being corrected. Diablo never recovered from that injury, and I carry the weight of knowing that decision was mine. That regret sits heavy, because he deserved a gentler ending.
He took his last breath today, and the yard feels quieter now. Like something steady is gone.
I don’t expect to ever have another rooster like him. Diablo set the standard for what a good one can be. He showed that leadership doesn’t have to be loud, violent, or cruel. Sometimes it looks like patience, watchfulness, and a soft cluck calling others to eat first. Sometimes it looks like a name that never matched the soul beneath it.
He was loved. And he will not be forgotten.
