This one smells kinda funny right?

"No seriously Claire, this one smells weird." I must have said this 40 times a day every day while holding Henri.
Seriously, everytime I picked her up she smelled like she was in liver failure. Full of Ammonia. I know I know, most of you have never smelled this but if you have, you know it's not a pleasant aroma. So naturally I was concerned that my little Henri, the one who was picked on by the others(thats how little shit got her name) was in full blown liver failure. In the first few days I had them, I believed she wouldn't live longer than a week and my job was to try and give her the best life possible before she died all jaundiced, bloated, and stinky. I'm in the medical field, of course I always expect the worse.
Seriously Claire, "You don't smell this?" I asked every night when we would sit and hold them. Even though Henri  was on the verge of death she was always the one to jump out of the box first and say hi, always liked to snuggle under my chin, and even today is the first one to come up to me when I feed them in the morning. Mama's girl.
But the stink... Whew. The stink remained and for some some reason I had a feeling this girl was special.
She was so much smaller than the others for weeks and then one day she blossomed and finally started growing. Three weeks later than the others, she started to get her tail feathers.  I thought the others were somehow pecking them off or that the liver failure was causing some sort of stunted growth. Little did I know that these two defining characteristics would make her more special than I could ever imagine.
One day the smell disappeared and I knew she was going to make it. She was doing well. eating fine, growing like crazy, getting the prettiest saddle feathers and growing a much larger and redder comb than the others. 
"What the hell was that noise?" Holy Crap. It was coming from the laundry room where they were brooding. The most immature effort filled crow I have ever had the privilege of hearing was escaping through the door. I walked in and right in my face, Henri showed me how proud she was of her new acquired skill. I raced to the feed store and asked the lady how likely it was that my sexed pullet (female chicken) could in fact be a rooster and the famous last words, "give it a little more time Sweetie" were born. 1% chance she said. 
I gave it a little more time, went through a few stages of denial, wished my 1% good fortune would win the lottery, and realized why my Henri was special from the beginning.  Henri was now my Henry. A beautiful rooster who has perfected his crowing skills, who protects the girls, and is still Mama's boy. 

Did I mention he has a brother?  Oh yeah good times. 

My two Americauna's Little S(hit) and Sonny are straight run. Meaning they were not sexed at the hatchery and had a fifty percent chance of being male or female. I took my chances with these two. 

The other day as I was walking to the coop to feed the girls and boys, I heard Henry crowing. I opened the coop door and to my astonishment it was't Henry. It was sweet, gentle little Sonny as proud and as loud as can be.  I couldn't believe it. TWO roosters. 

As much as I want to keep these two and as much as my heart breaks to have to re-home them, the neighbors are getting restless. When I first got them I thought I would be able to cull them(kill them in a nice, humane, and peaceful way) if I ended up with any roosters. I have become so attached to them and feel so maternal since raising them from a day old that there is absolutely no way I can do it to these two. 

Luckily, my Dad who lives on a farm in Louisiana was looking for a rooster or two. On friday, I am sadly going to bring them to their new home. I am thankful I will be able to keep them together  and see them regularly when I visit. I never in my life could have imagined it would be this hard.