When a Rooster Ran Free in Stanley Park

On the first Sunday in March, I was cycling along the Rawlings Trail in Vancouver’s Stanley Park, past numerous strollers and cyclists enjoying the balmy early-spring weather.

Near Second Beach I was keeping an eye out for coyotes. What I saw beside the trail instead was a bright splash of auburn glory.

Only two legs were visible, bright yellow, so clearly not a canine. Two people were standing nearby. I stopped my bike, and together we contemplated the rather surreal presence of a large, apparently healthy, thoroughly placid rooster.

The bird’s guardians introduced themselves as Karl and Olya Schmidt. They were not its owners, they assured me — they had simply come upon the bird as he pecked his contented way around the path.

In fact, this encounter had occurred three hours earlier. Olya had been insistent that the tame bird should not be left to the mercy of prowling coyotes and circling eagles. So they waited, repeatedly dialing 311 to request assistance from park rangers.

They were understandably frustrated. For one thing, they had two rescue bunnies back home that needed feeding. But safeguarding this coxcombed ginger fowl took precedence. Thus their afternoon was sacrificed to making sure the animal was safe from predators, or perhaps would-be Colonel Sanders.

We decided a name was required for our colourful friend. I offered Foghorn, a tribute to beloved Looney Tunes blowhard Foghorn Leghorn. But this pretty fellow seemed too chill for that.

Olya favoured Roy, as an approximation of the rasping vocalizations the cock was periodically emitting. So Roy became Roy the Random Rooster. And he was proving to be one popular poultry pedestrian.

Every passerby stopped to admire Roy. Karl and Olya were forced to explain repeatedly that no, they were not taking Roy out for a walk, that he had likely been abandoned here, possibly by a backyard chicken farmer who did not want fertilized eggs, or had belatedly discovered that roosters, unlike hens, are not permitted in backyard Vancouver coops. One does not want to run a-fowl of the law.

Someone pointed out that Roy’s spurs had been trimmed, which suggested domestic care.

One man walked up, saw the rooster, said, “Expect the unexpected,” and continued on.

One passing resident who stopped to admire Roy insisted there was once a population of wild poultry in the region of the park that formerly held the zoo.

The prospect of Roy founding a new Stanley Park colony did not seem likely though. Friendly as he was, Roy was unlikely to last long. Only an hour earlier I had watched eagles patrolling the skies near Prospect Point.

Where former pets run free

Stanley Park is home to many abandoned or escaped animals, some of which have established invasive populations. Turtles in Lost Lagoon and Beaver Lake are likely former pets and their descendants, as are koi that often provide meals for local otters.

Bullfrogs in Beaver Lake are invasive, and the Eastern Grey Squirrels that populate the park are all descended from eight pairs released in 1914.

Mute swans were introduced into the park as a decorative feature and flourished for a while, but by 2016 had been reduced to a population of four and were relocated to protect them from otter attacks.

A deer made a brief sensation in September 2015, becoming a tourist attraction and even getting its own Twitter account as Downtown Deer before being tragically and perhaps inevitably struck and killed on the causeway.

And for awhile, there was another rooster.

His name was Ricky, and like Roy he turned up unexpectedly. Ricky took to wandering around the horse barns near Pipeline Road and quickly became the mascot of park staff, who even made little booties for his arthritic feet.

Ricky died from complications after surgery for a broken leg.

Now Roy was, however briefly, cock of the walk in Stanley Park.

An urban outlaw

For how long, though? The Schmidts had now been here for a solid three-and-a-half hours. Olya had checked in at the nearby ranger station but found it closed. Calls to 311 were so far producing no results. There were at least eight phone menu options and not one of them referenced stray roosters.

The SPCA told them that an abandoned animal in the park was not within their jurisdiction and would have to be dealt with by city staff. A city staffer had eventually promised help was coming. But the March sun would soon be dipping.

While Roy dutifully pecked the earth, Karl and Olya peered down the trail for signs of relief.

Olya, an artist whose work will be included in the Art Vancouver exhibition April 24 to 27, is, as you might guess, a serious animal lover.

When the conversation turned to topics of animal cruelty and/or veterinary disasters, her hands went to her ears. “I can’t even listen,” she said.

Olya went back out to scout the road, returning shortly with a smile of relief. Success. A park board truck had been prowling around, unable to locate Roy and entourage, and soon came down the trail after her.

The rangers then went off to get a kennel and a net, promising to return within 15 minutes. I offered to take over babysitting so Karl and Olya could finally go home, but Olya shook her head. “I am too invested now,” she said. “I need closure.”

The rangers returned with the kennel. It was decided the net would not be needed. Still, Roy, until now as sanguine a rooster as you could ever meet, was not pleased about the prospect of kennel insertion. Much squawking ensued before the door was shut.

It was now five o’clock. Karl and Olya had been on site for four hours. The hungry bunnies would soon be fed.

Roy was now in the capable hands of Vancouver Animal Control. His future? As an urban outlaw, adoption within the city was not an option. “We will be looking for a hobby farm in the Fraser Valley that may be interested in taking him,” an Animal Control spokesperson said.

In response to my query however, Animal Control initially replied, “The rooster has no name at this point.”

It was looking like the name issue might be kicked up to city council. But then, good news. “You will be happy to hear,” a city spokesperson informed me, “Animal Services have officially adopted the name Roy for the rooster. And they have found him a home.”

A safe place to roost. And a final tip of the comb to a couple of city folk who took the time to play wing men.