When I was a kid, we had chooks – poulets that were egg layers in a pen in the back yard of our country farmhouse. It was decided that we needed a Rooster to keep the chickens happy so we bought a black Bantam for the job (later nicknamed Mussolini because he turned out to be a control freak psychook*):
This Model reminds me of the stature of young, brave, cock-sure Mussolini. His incessant crowing was the reason that he became a quite decent casserole not too far into his hen-servicing career.
*Chooks that are tiny seem to have inflated opinions of their own ability – Mussolini would charge and fly at your face, scare the dogs and generally terrorize all other forms of life (including alienating himself from the hens he was supposed to be special friends to).
Why a chook? Well, in choir today the choir master asked us to do all manner of coordinated movements and vocalisations (including crowing of a cockerel) all of which I more or less completely failed to do correctly, yay me!