Lucy survived Marek's Disease and began to regain the use of her legs, although it took a lot out of her. She remained very weak, and she slept a lot. While she was living in the dog crate on the porch, we really enjoyed her company. She was always up for a good chat on a summer evening.
But when I put Lucy out with the girls, Lil'White continued to go after her like a crazed assassin.
Since Lucy couldn't get far on those sad twisted feet, I fashioned her a little pen to keep her safe from vicious predators while she was out in the yard.
That pen turned out to be the best little invention. I made a couple more of them, which I could toss over the gals whenever I had to run inside to take a flaming pot off the stove.
Here Hatsy attempts to peck my eye out from the pen she's sharing with Lucy.
I don't worry too much about foxes and coyotes because Marky is always in the yard and he diligently patrols the perimeter of his 1.3 acres.
He loves his job.
He does not love the chickens.
But that's another story.
Lucy really missed living with the girls. So when I built her little special-needs coop I made sure she had a view of the big coop, even from her nestbox.
Here's the mini-coop from the back. Lots of doors so I could reach Lucy in case she needed me.
Lucy settled into her new digs okay.
Hatsy liked to come over for visits, and sometimes she had a sleepover at Lucy's.
Now and then Lucy came back to our house for a little visit.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Last summer, sometime in May, Lucy went broody.
She wanted a baby.
It was a hormonal thing.
It was unmistakable and it was fascinating.
She sat in the nestbox all day, except when I lifted her out and shut the door so she couldn't get back in. She was all puffed up like a speckled balloon. And she started chanting, "budup budup budup budup ..." nonstop-- all day, all night.
If we had a rooster, Lucy would have had a clutch of fertile eggs to sit on. But we had no rooster.
Observing Lucy in her broodiness reminded me of how I felt when I was about 30 and suddenly really really really wanted to start a family.
So I called up my friend Trish, whose hens happen to have a lovely little rooster.
. . . . . . . . next blog entry: BROODY LUCY