Cocks do not have Cocks
- SU
- Jun 12
- 2 min read
I learned something today that has completely undermined my trust in language and poultry.
Cocks don’t have cocks.
I know.
Take a moment.
I did.
Because surely, if there is one creature on this planet that should possess a cock…
It would be the cock.
That seems reasonable.
That’s just proper linguistics.
Yet somehow humans looked at this situation and said:
“No. That would be too straightforward… let’s call a cockless creature a cock.”
A cock reproduces through something called a cloaca.
A cloaca.
/klō-ā′kə/
Also known as a a sewer (the plumbing is… a whole nother SU Rant)
A cloaca sounds less like anatomy and more like a woman names Chloe who owns three alpacas and sells homemade soap at a farmer’s market down the road.
To make matters worse, scientists refer to the process as a “cloacal kiss.”
A phrase so aggressively unromantic it sounds like a disease sailors got in the 1700s.
But let’s return to the real issue.
The cock.
The cock that doesn’t have a cock.
The bird whose entire identity appears to be built on anatomical false advertising.
For centuries farmers watched cocks strut around the barnyard with all the confidence of a middle-aged man named Ron who drives a red convertible Miata.
Chest out.
Tail feathers up.
Screeching COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO at unreasonable hours.
Rhett Butler acts like he owns the plantation.
Meanwhile, biologically speaking, he is basically running around with a misleading title without the equipment.
Which raises uncomfortable questions.
Who named this thing?
Did nobody check?
Was there no quality-control process?
No medieval biologist willing to stand up and say:
“Hang on a minute, lads. I’ve inspected the merchandise and there appears to be a discrepancy.”
Apparently not.
Humanity simply accepted it.
The same species that insists on warning labels for lawn mowers, that engage a safety lock to turn off
when a butt cheek is lifted, looked at a rooster and said:
“We shall call that a Cock!”
(Poppycock 😂 )
And then there’s the matter of peckers.
Roosters don’t have peckers either.
They have beaks.
A pecker is just the activity being performed by the beak.
Imagine if we named everything this way.
Cars would be called drivers.
Shovels would be called diggers.
Tax accountants would be called soul-harvesters.
Nothing would make sense.
Then again…
Nature doesn’t care about what we call things.
The cock certainly doesn’t.
Rhett Butler will still march across the yard tomorrow morning, coco-a-doodle-doing… like a cock with a cock that doesn’t have a cock.
Completely unaware that his entire reputation rests upon an anatomical misunderstanding…
Or irony.
God seems to love irony or at least teach us through it.
I guess I can respect that level of confidence.
Maybe if we all walked through life with the swagger of a cock that doesn’t have a cock…
We wouldn’t have to work so hard.
Mad respect for Rhett Butler keeping it… real.
