Chuck Klosterman is the other one. He's an asshole. He is the only rooster I have ever raised that tries to hurt me. Only he isn't man enough to own that decision and actually try and spur me. He waits till I am walking away and then runs up to me, ready to attack. Then I whirl around and yell "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM, BIRD!" and he backs down because I'm 15 times his height. Then he struts away and runs off to bang a hen or chase Winthrop around. Sometimes I wish Winthrop realized he was twice the size of Chuck Klosterman. It's like watching an angry velociraptor stalk and bite an autistic T-Rex. Winthrop is in his own little world of wolf sounds and slug eating. He abhors violence, and so he runs away from Chuck like a 4-year-old girl.
I keep Chuck around because while he is a mean bird—he is watchful and protective of his girls. He's sly and tricky and treats the farm like his jailyard. A place he rules with an iron fist, but also protects with one. He may not be the kindest cock on the block, but he keeps the trains running on time. For that, I'll keep feeding him no matter how much he looks like a pot pie.