Torture

This was an extreme measure.

Let me explain.  

Lil'White had been pecking brutally at Lucy's neck. 

Lucy's neck feathers were all gone, and any new ones that emerged were promptly tweezed by Lil'White. 

This had been going on for months. It was horrible to watch.  

I tried everything I could think of to stop this behavior. I knew that Lil'White would create a bloody wound if she were allowed to continue.

With all options exhausted, I broke down and ordered "Pinless Peepers", a little pince-nez designed to prevent a bird from pecking flock mates while still allowing the bird to eat and drink.  

I had hoped for pink ones.  They sent blue ones. 

With a bit of a struggle, I placed the Peepers on Lil'White's beak, clipping them into her nostrils.

Lil'White would have thrown this brick at my head if she could have. 

She was livid.

But the Peepers worked. The Lucy-plucking subsided, and after a few days Lil'White seemed to adjust somewhat to the contraption. 

It took about a month for Lucy to transform from scraggly

back to glorious.   

But at what cost?    
I felt I had only transferred the torture of one bird to the torture of another. 

And Lil'White continued to despise me -- more than she ever did, if that's even possible. 

There had to be a better solution. 

(Click here for part two: JAILBIRDS)

Lucy and the Ghastly Nuggets

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.

Dorrie reminds me of Pigeon.  

I told Danny this, and he replied, "Maybe she IS Pigeon."

Pigeon or not, I think Lucy's in for another big adventure.

A Solution to Every Problem

Lately I've noticed Lucy's neck looking a little scraggly.  
But I chalked it up to old age...

I mean, my neck certainly doesn’t look like a spring chicken’s either. That's why I always pose with one of my hens.

See how young I look?

For a five-year-old hen, Lucy has been looking pretty healthy.

But here's what I mean about her neck:   

Then a couple weeks ago I witnessed this:

and I realized the problem wasn't old age -- the problem was Lil'White.

Lil'White goes after Daisy all the time, 

but Daisy has enough spunk to stay a few steps ahead of her.

Lucy, however, couldn't outrun a snail.

I only saw Lil'White pecking at Lucy once, and never again....but Lucy's feathers have been looking worse and worse.  

The night Lucy chose to roost outdoors at bedtime

I realized that Lil'White must have been nibbling at Lucy all night long on the roost inside.

Lil’White and Lucy always sleep side by side on the roost.

I couldn’t change their roosting situation - each gal chooses her place, and the bedtime routine is pretty much set in stone.

So I considered other possibilities:

These "pinless peepers" helped my friend Jennifer's gal, Lily,to change her peckish ways....

I had one other idea that seemed easier.  I took two pieces of wood, a couple of nails and a big ol’ C-clamp, and built a wall.

So now Evil Lil'White has a bedroom of her own. 

I'm not sure how Lil'White feels about this setup,

But I think Lucy and Daisy are thrilled.

Flock of Four

"Don't cry because it's over. 

Smile because it happened."

-- Dr. Seuss

I buried Fern yesterday.

She died on Christmas. 
Probably not a significant day, to a chicken.
It just happened to be the right day for Fern to let go. 

Fern had courageously and hysterically battled illness since June. 
I helped her, perhaps more than I should have. 

But she just kept singing and being silly and, well, being Fern.
She wasn't ready to give up, so I didn't give up either.

I kept her going, hoping she would acquire more strength to fight.

After all, Lucy recovered. 

And she thrived. 

Lucy struggles still, but I make sure she is comfortable and happy, and I know that she is.

Fern helped me to understand that sometimes valiant efforts should not be taken to keep a beloved pet alive. 

For the past month, I have watched her condition deteriorate, ever so slowly. 

I knew she wouldn't make it through the winter.   

On Christmas morning Fern was sleepy, and she didn't sing to me when I lifted her from the nest box. When I offered her food and drink, she showed no interest.  

That afternoon when I visited the ladies,they were all hanging out with Fern.  

It felt to me like a vigil. 
It was not a sad moment. 
Just a quiet flock-moment.
Fern died a few hours later.  

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

She was a gorgeous bird.

She spent nearly three years as a chicken,
but she never did grow up.

Fern was a chickadee-chaser.


She challenged authority.

Fern tirelessly annoyed the whole flock, 

and she was number one on Lil'White's hit list.

Memories of Fern will always bring a chuckle, and I will smile because she "happened."

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

So another chapter has ended, and I am left with a flock of four. 

Now I look toward Spring.

Normally, I lustily peruse my flower and seed catalogs all through the winter. 

But this winter I'll be thumbing through chicken catalogs.

I'd like to increase my flock to seven or eight.

Maybe I'll get a Spitzhauben, a Wyandotte .... Definitely another Barred Rock....

Isn't it wonderful how life just keeps rolling along?  
I can't wait to meet my new characters!