I have one, count ’em, one bantam. Spartacus. He used to say, “Prepare to die,” all the time, then the other chickens grew up and he realized he’d better be a little more politic than that.
I used to have a little banty hen, too, but she came to a bad end just as she was on the brink of fulfilling her dreams of motherhood. (See here. That raccoon tail is still nailed to my front porch post.)
I love banties. They’re funny little chickens that make funny little eggs. You need about three banty eggs to make one regular chicken egg. Their eggs are kinda ridiculous. He was hatched of my very first incubator batch, which came from eggs I got from a neighbor of my cousin’s. They had a mixed group of chickens there, and two banties hatched out from the eggs I had.
The other roosters truly do not pick on him.
For the most part, they don’t pay much attention to him. Neither do the hens. In the spring, I’m planning to finally get some more banties.
My little banty roo’s been alone long enough.