We have four roosters. Their names are Little Plum, Mervyn, The One That Everybody Hates and The Other One. For a while we could hardly tell the difference between The One That Everybody Hates and The Other One. Then when Mervyn started attacking The One That Everybody Hates he got a few injuries that made him distinguishable from The Other One. For a long time T.O.T.E.H. mooched around on his own but in the last few days he's started hanging out with the rest of the gang. Then he started fighting with T.O.O. and now they're both bloody, bruised, tattered and torn. Now Mervyn has started picking on Plum. It's time for a regime change.
Bert has taken the best part of a year to complete the chicken run and Plum and his (soon to be expanded) harem will be moving in. If the game cocks aren't (A) taken by the fox or (B) don't kill each other and (C) survive to invade Plum's run they will (D) have their necks pulled and (E) get made into broth.
Bert said those game chicks would tear each other apart when they grew. I said,
But they're so pretty!
Chicken keeping is not for the faint hearted.