I had read about hens accepting young
chicks and caring for them, and I was eager to see if Lucy, having already
raised a chick of her own, might take a shining to these wee nuggets.
So on a nice warm day, when they were
exactly two weeks old and their Marek’s vaccine was well-integrated into their
immune systems, I scooped up the chicks and whisked them outside to greet the
sun ---
and to meet an honest-to-goodness
chicken.
Once the chicks were situated on the lawn,
I carried Lucy over to take a look.
I placed her beside the cage.
For a moment, she ignored them - but only for a moment.
Then Lucy lifted her head, raised her
hackles, and shrieked like a banshee.
The nuggets just stared at her.
Lucy was terrified. I wonder if she even
recognized them as chicks.
She turned and lumbered away from their
cage, and scrambled to the safety of my lap.
Only when she discovered the tag on my
pants
did her hackles settle
and her panic subside.
After a while she glanced up to find that
those freaky little nightmares were still there.
Poor Lucy. The prospect of enduring
motherhood again nearly sent her over the edge.
I carried her back to the safety of the
coop and the reassuring company of her geriatric companions.
. . . .
. . . . . . . . .
Once the chicks had grown and it was time
to integrate them with the old
ladies, I worried for Lucy.....as I always do. Her disability is evident,
and the youngsters might very well choose to pick on her.
But Lucy held her own.
She and Lil'White share the position of
Top Chicken in the coop, and the nuggets have not contested their status.
They stick pretty closely together, these
little gals - they're a sub-flock within the big flock.
They don't aim to bother Lucy.
But Lucy's peaceful afternoons beneath the
forsythia
are no longer so peaceful.
And in the coop, I've noticed young Dorrie
choosing to stand right beside Lucy ---
---just because.
I told Danny this, and he replied,
"Maybe she IS Pigeon."
Pigeon or not, I think Lucy's in for another big adventure.