So after suffering the loss of Salt I said I wasn't going to do it again~ but when I saw how bored Pepper was I knew I couldn't keep a flock animal in solitude. Who would she cluck her little daily stories too after all? She needs a coop buddy come winter ... someone to help keep the heat up in the hen house. So after posting my need on craigslist.com with no response I did the unimaginable and answered an ad from a woman who was selling pullets. This is a good thing. Isn't it?
I met the woman with a nice white chicken at the Harwinton fair we exchanged hellos and soon we were on our way home with the little white chicken in hand. The kids anxiously squawking and quarreling about what to name her, and pondering on her immediate future.
We get this little soft fuzzy footed Cochin (with some Wyandote) home and let her go into the chicken run. Pepper running anxiously up and down the sides wondering where this creature came from. After some exposure we let Pepper in who ran immediately to the little white hen BEAT HER!~
This hens response was unlike any I had expected....did she run away?...no, did she stand up and fight like a woman? ... uh,no. Instead she laid down and buried her head as deep into a corner as she could. WOW!!!! Pepper was thrilled at how powerful she was around this hen. She continued to batter this hen~until I made the decision to lock her OUT of the run. This is not nice. I know its not nice...but what choice do I have?
After dark I came out to shut the coop door and there in the dark I can see a little white mass of feathers battened down near the wall of the garage. I pick her up and toss her into the coop.
I'm thinking GOOD GRIEF THIS HEN DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO GET INTO THE COOP AND ROOST. And no, she did not know how to roost, she spent the night on the floor of the coop while Pepper rested respectively above.
The next day the coop is opened and the door to the run is open (a mistake on my part). I hop into the shower and am very excited to see that the two are walking near each other. Until I go outside and see that Pepper is AGAIN attacking the hen, who is again...lying down and hiding her head under a rock in the stone wall. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS BIRD???? Why wont she run away???
I go back into the house and hear Garrick screaming...screaming that kind of scream that makes your ears perk up and say "is he joking or being killed". I go out to see what the fuss is about and he informs me that my dogs were attacking the hen. The patio was covered in white feathers! OMG!!!!
My dogs don't attack chickens, they love them (refer to previous post...the proof is in the pictures). What is wrong with this hen????? They are definitely all sensing her weakness and taking advantage. I make the decision to keepher separate and leave Pepper to again stay in the yard. I can tell after getting home from work that the poor little hen spent the entire day in the coop in darkness. I had to leave again so I lock the hen in the coop and I lock Pepper in the run...so that when darkness fell and she was still out she was not open to a world of creatures ready, willing, and able to gobble her up like Thanksgiving dinner.
When we returned later that night Pepper had laid an egg out of her nest, she had managed to find cover in a freezing cold cement tube that was just the right size for her little henny body. I felt just awful. I get the white hen out of the coop, put her in isolation and once again allow Pepper to be queen of her castle. Who knew Poultry Farming could be so stressful. Especially when we are only dealing with TWO LITTLE HENS?
Stay tuned for Part 3~ as I return little white hen and trade her for a bigger more sturdy model.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Like a chicken with its head cut off
After running around in circles the last few months I realize it is time that I make an attempt at some updates. Alot has changed in our farm family since my last blog post, so ever so quickly (i'll spare you the details) I will give you the run down on what's old, what's new and what's just impossible to think about.
The Squirrel named Buddy disappeared one day~ in fact the day after he opened his eyes. But I'm not a fool and I know exactly where he ended up. I must continue to love my dogs as I'm sure it was pure instinct that drove them to devour every ounce of him not so much as leaving a scant bit of hair.
In fairness, I knew the crate he was switched too was too big, but being the admitted worry wart I opted to keep my mouth closed and say nothing to the child that switched out the crate, when it really matter most. Buddy paid the ultimate price~ and that is a bit of guilt I will continue to live with daily.
Where animals are concerned I carry guilt in failures with me constantly.
About two weeks ago we suffered a blow out with one of the hens, Salt actually. Our beloved little Barred Plymouth Rock. It started out "small" and ended up more disgusting then anything I had ever seen. I believe we had caught it too late~not for lack of trying. I had managed to clean the girl up, push her butt back in, and separate her to prevent her bottom from being picked even more. But when I went back out the next day, preparation H in hand, what I saw was absolutely NOT fixable and spotted with the beginnings of maggots, which let me know we were not looking at something that happened yesterday. Do I sound slightly cold about the event. I probably do. Do I carry the tons of guilt with me because I didn't catch it sooner... I do. Being an animal lover every single time something goes wrong I sit and think of 1000 ways to blame myself for what should've/could've/would've been done differently. I pushed her ass back in for christ sake, this is not something I probably in a hundred years thought I would ever do.
My husband unfortunately had the dirty assignment of putting poor Salty out of her misery. Although that is a story I have not told children, nor do I plan on it. He said it was eeewy and gooey and not at all pleasant. But he manned up and did what he had to. So good for him, it was quick...well except for that part when she jumped up and ran around like a chicken w/ her head cut off! He tossed a rag over her headless body because he couldn't bare to watch. He later buried her in the garden~to bask in the New England autumn sunshine.
I have more news to share, but it is late and I am tired, exhausted really from recapping the misery of the past two months. I can promise you I am not through. It is my hope that come weeks end this will all have a happy ending....but for today, that is not the case. And I can't bear to go on.
The Squirrel named Buddy disappeared one day~ in fact the day after he opened his eyes. But I'm not a fool and I know exactly where he ended up. I must continue to love my dogs as I'm sure it was pure instinct that drove them to devour every ounce of him not so much as leaving a scant bit of hair.
In fairness, I knew the crate he was switched too was too big, but being the admitted worry wart I opted to keep my mouth closed and say nothing to the child that switched out the crate, when it really matter most. Buddy paid the ultimate price~ and that is a bit of guilt I will continue to live with daily.
Where animals are concerned I carry guilt in failures with me constantly.
About two weeks ago we suffered a blow out with one of the hens, Salt actually. Our beloved little Barred Plymouth Rock. It started out "small" and ended up more disgusting then anything I had ever seen. I believe we had caught it too late~not for lack of trying. I had managed to clean the girl up, push her butt back in, and separate her to prevent her bottom from being picked even more. But when I went back out the next day, preparation H in hand, what I saw was absolutely NOT fixable and spotted with the beginnings of maggots, which let me know we were not looking at something that happened yesterday. Do I sound slightly cold about the event. I probably do. Do I carry the tons of guilt with me because I didn't catch it sooner... I do. Being an animal lover every single time something goes wrong I sit and think of 1000 ways to blame myself for what should've/could've/would've been done differently. I pushed her ass back in for christ sake, this is not something I probably in a hundred years thought I would ever do.
My husband unfortunately had the dirty assignment of putting poor Salty out of her misery. Although that is a story I have not told children, nor do I plan on it. He said it was eeewy and gooey and not at all pleasant. But he manned up and did what he had to. So good for him, it was quick...well except for that part when she jumped up and ran around like a chicken w/ her head cut off! He tossed a rag over her headless body because he couldn't bare to watch. He later buried her in the garden~to bask in the New England autumn sunshine.
I have more news to share, but it is late and I am tired, exhausted really from recapping the misery of the past two months. I can promise you I am not through. It is my hope that come weeks end this will all have a happy ending....but for today, that is not the case. And I can't bear to go on.
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