Conversations

recent posts

about

Professionally, I’m a retired professor of accounting and former chair of the School of Accounting at the University of South Carolina’s Moore School of Business. My academic work explored how people make decisions in complex systems, especially when information is imperfect or overwhelming. I’ve published in a fair number of journals that few people read voluntarily, and I spent decades thinking about how technology shapes human behavior. These days, my time is divided between managing a small flock of chickens, herding goats, chatting on amateur radio (KO4LMP), and living just on the edge of the grid—literally and metaphorically. I’m a father to five daughters, a grandfather to 17, and a great-grandfather to three. Somewhere along the way, I realized that what I enjoy most is simply talking about the world we live in—and how to make sense of it.

🐔The Great Rooster Roundup: Pitting Human v. Chicken Brains

We have a new breed of chicken that flies up to the top of our fences and then over. It’s a problem because we have large gardens on either side of the chicken yard and, now that it is spring, it is time plant. The problem is that a chicken will tear up a garden in no time especially one that has recently been tilled and planted.

So, I modified my chicken tractor (a.k.a. mobile chicken coop without a floor) so that our pesty forest dwelling racoon couldn’t continue getting the nesting box door open. It was now chicken friendly again.

With that task completed, I transferred my chickens from the chicken house to the chicken tractor. This process involved keeping the door to the chicken house shut while catching the chickens and holding them upside-down by their feet. The chickens were then unceremoniously stuffed into a dog kennel, three or four at a time for transport to their new home. During this process, two hens and the rooster escaped.

With the help of my long handled, heavy duty fish net and my miniature Australian Shepherd, Tazzy, the two freedom loving hens found their way to the chicken tractor. But the rooster is another story. Judging by how fast he runs, my rooster is about 90 percent road runner. And, unlike the hens, does not pause even for a moment before flying over a fence. Tazzy and I couldn’t catch the little devil.

And so, I enlisted grandsons Zane (age 12), Lyman (age 7) and Oliver (age 4) in a rooster roundup. I explained to them that human brains are much larger than chicken brains and so that was our advantage. Zane, you go that way with the fish net. Lyman, you go this other way and herd the rooster towards Zane. Me and Oliver will come from the front to box him in. Okay, go!

When the rooster got boxed, he flew over the fence, then ran like crazy fast, flew over another fence, then ran like crazy fast, et cetera. This went on for about 30 minutes before Zane finally snagged the critter. Even though Zane had the net, we have to give Tazzy a lot of credit for the ultimate snag.

But now, I’m seriously questioning the relative size of my brain.

ChatGPT said:

This is a delightful entry—but, it invites some real analysis. There’s more going on here than “man vs. rooster.” Let me pull apart a few layers that might sharpen your thinking (and maybe even strengthen the piece if you ever share it).

1. The Assumption That Failed

Your central premise: “Human brains are much larger than chicken brains and so that was our advantage.”

That’s logically tidy—but operationally flawed.

You weren’t solving a thinking problem. You were solving a movement problem.

  • The rooster operates on:
    • instinct
    • speed
    • unpredictability
  • Your team operated on:
    • planning
    • coordination
    • delayed reaction

In other words, you brought a strategy advantage to a tactical sprint.

A chicken doesn’t need to outthink you—just outpace you for 2–3 seconds at a time. Over 30 minutes, that compounds into chaos.

2. Mismatch Between Environment and Plan

Your plan assumed containment:

  • “Box him in”
  • “Herd him toward the net”

But the environment had:

  • vertical escape routes (fences)
  • multiple zones (yard → garden → yard again)

So your mental model was 2D, while the rooster was playing in 3D.

That’s the hidden flaw: You were solving for containment, but the system allowed escape.

3. The Real Hero: Distributed Intelligence

You gave credit to Zane and especially to Tazzy—and that’s insightful.

What actually succeeded wasn’t individual intelligence, but distributed pressure:

  • Tazzy → constant pursuit (no fatigue of attention)
  • Zane → positioned with tool (net)
  • Others → created directional pressure

This is less like chess and more like: A pack hunt

Which is interesting, because:

  • The rooster acts like prey
  • The humans unintentionally shifted into predator roles

And the only reason it worked is because you outlasted, not outsmarted.

4. The Rooster’s “Strategy” (Such As It Is)

It’s tempting to think the rooster was clever—but it wasn’t planning.

Its “advantage” was:

  • Immediate reaction
  • Zero hesitation
  • No overthinking
  • Full commitment to escape every time

Ironically, this is where your closing line lands so well: “I’m seriously questioning the relative size of my brain.”

Because the rooster wasn’t burdened by one.

5. A Subtle Theme You Might Not Have Noticed

There’s a quiet contrast running through your entry:

  • You improved the chicken tractor to outsmart a raccoon (a genuine problem-solving animal)
  • Then got outmaneuvered by a rooster (a reactive animal)

That inversion is almost literary:

You succeeded against intelligence and struggled against instinct

That’s worth highlighting if you ever revise this.

6. Final Thought

Your brain didn’t fail—you just used the wrong kind of intelligence for the situation.

If anything, the real takeaway is: Intelligence shines when it shapes the environment, not when it tries to outrun instinct inside it.

And that last line is perfect—you shouldn’t touch it.

Posted in

Leave a comment