He still works the hens, but only retains his place because of his police skills in keeping the peace with about eight to ten hens, The white in his once lustrous black tail is about the only giveaway to his age, as when in fresh feather he is still quite a handsome old boy.
Unfortunately he was killed by a fox, just on dark a couple of days ago. All the birds are securely locked up of a night, but on this occasion we were late getting home from the town. He was only a pensioner these days, but it is sad to see him go that way, the eight hens he was running with were all safe, and the Romantic in me, likes to think he died defending them.