Learn from Mishaps

When I encounter a mishap, I try to learn from it. Most of you who read this blog know that our dear Sweetpea, a barred rock, was attacked by a dog last month. The dog was thankfully not one of our own labradoodles. That would have been even more difficult to endure. The dog that got into our yard, chased the hens, caught Sweetpea, and successfully pulled off feathers and flesh, was a neighbor’s female bull terrier.

Years ago, when I was a young mother and had a milk goat, chickens, ducks, a pony, and baked our own bread, we lost hens due to raccoons breaking and digging into the coup at night. I’ll never forget the sound as a hen was having her head ripped off by a predator. I vowed that if I ever had hens again, I would have a coop that nothing could break into. So dear husband built a cement floored henhouse (where hens are contained at night) and buried hardware wire around the perimeter of the outdoor coop. We used 2″ welded wire for the top and sides of the coup to prevent hawks and foxes, patrolling our area during the day, from helping themselves to fresh chicken breast. This has worked as we haven’t lost a hen to a predator yet.

What Happened?

Then in the spring, I began letting the hens out of the run for a few hours a day while I gardened. I’d put the 2-year-old labradoodles in the house for their late morning nap. Our half-acre is fenced so I felt fairly sure that a fox wouldn’t get in, grab a hen, and escape over a six-foot fence, nor would a hawk bother the girls with people around. What I didn’t anticipate is a neighbor, with her dog off leash, walking by, seeing an open gate (contractors were unloading materials for our garden-room addition) and, doing what dogs do, go hunting in our back yard.

Feathers growing back.

It all happened in a few seconds. The dog saw the chickens, ran full speed, with husband and contractors in hot pursuit. The dog first grabbed Daisy (the Buff Orpington) and spit her out (guess she was too fluffy). Then she grabbed Sweetpea and ran about 100 feet, put her down on the ground and began ripping and tearing. Shouts and screams did not deter the dog. My husband pried her jaws apart to get the dog to release the hen.

Damage Done

Sweetpea’s wing was broken and pieces of her flesh on her back and under her wing were missing. In the beginning of my “hen project” I made an agreement with my husband that I would not run up vet bills for hens. So far, I’ve been able to treat them at home. I felt I could bind her wing and treat her wounds myself. She probably would have benefited from stitches but I just couldn’t bring myself to sew flesh.We gave Sweetpea antibiotics for a week, changed her dressings daily and kept her wing bound with “vet tape”. With only one wing, her balance was off. The first time she tried to jump up on a bale of hay, she fell on her side and “couldn’t get up”.

Recovery

I put her in the run for an hour each day so that the girls would stay friendly, and within two weeks, she was back with her pals full time and was able to get up on her four-foot roost at night. We removed her bandage after three weeks and she was able to take a dust bath and lie in the sun. Ahhhhhh……….

What I learned?

The hens are never really safe. The reality is that as long as there are predators, there is a danger of a chicken being hurt or killed. You can do all the things you can to safeguard your chickens but mistakes will happen, like a gate being opened as you pass through and a negligent neighbor walking with a dog off leash.

Reporting

Did I do anything about the incident? Yes, I reported it to our San Luis Obispo County Animal Control. They took a report and recorded it in case of future problems. What I found out is, the owner of the dog is responsible for damage costs (if there are any). On a third incidence, the dog will be classified as vicious. What good will that do? And as far as paying me for the loss of one these pets, what would be adequate payment?

Freerange Under Supervision

I’ll be as careful with the girls as I can, but, they are old and deserve to have a pleasant life. I want them to follow me around, scratch in the dirt, lie in the sun and just be chickens so I’ll continue letting them our under supervision. That is the best I can do for them.

Sweetpea and Ginger have a blooming rosebush in their outdoor coop.

Due to human error, our hens, Sweetpea and Ginger, were killed by a raccoon or fox.

We’d let the girls out in the garden for a little sunshine and free-ranging. The wind came up and blew down a large pine tree. The door to the henhouse blew shut. We were busy assessing damage all afternoon. Twilight came and from the house, the coop door appeared shut. Little did we remember our hens were let out that afternoon.

In the morning we found them dead.

Hens, Sweetpea and Ginger were killed by a raccoon or fox. It appears as if a fox or raccoon killed them in the night.

I am sick about this. I had nurtured Sweetpea after a dog attack and she was eight years old. That is old for a hen. Ginger was four years old and had been given to me by a neighbor. A sweet and gentle Buff Orpington.

These hens died as a result of “human error”. I will be getting 3-4 pullets soon. I will think twice before letting them out as I know bad things can happen. I feel awful!

Pretty Poppy a Silver-laced Wyandotte Hen

Poppy, our pretty silver-laced Wyandotte died today. I’m not terribly distraught because she died of what I believe is old age. I found her under the roost. She was paralyzed on one side of her body. No blood. No broken bones. Just laying with her wings spread out. I put her in a cage in the garden shed with food and water. She ate a little. But in the morning she was gone.

The hens are approaching  5 years of age. Their toes are twisted and they look to have arthritis. They no longer lay eggs but I don’t have the heart to get rid of them. I’m down to two hens now, Daisy and Sweetpea. Both have been through much more than Poppy. Daisy has been sick twice and Sweetpea was attacked by a dog. They both survived their mishaps and are still strutting through the garden, taking dust baths, and running to me when I have a treat in my hand or call “chick, chick, chick”.

What to do with old hens is a dilemma that we, who have pet chickens, find ourselves in.  We can’t keep building on to our coops to house new “young chicks” who only lay a few years, then retire. Most of us don’t have room in our backyards.

Perhaps we need to lobby for a breed that will lay and live longer. Is it possible? They certainly have developed chickens that lay more eggs than ever thought possible.

I will miss Poppy. She was a level-headed survivor. When a hawk would fly over, Poppy was the first to sound the alarm and run for cover. She loved to free-range, scratching deep under the artichoke leaves. She was not as tame as Daisy and Sweetpea and did not appreciate me picking her up. She was a bit of a “wild thing” but oh so beautiful. I don’t think I’ll get another Wyandotte. I had trouble with both of my Wyandotte girls. The golden Wyandotte was “mean girl” (story here) and I had to rehome her, and Poppy was a “wild child” (see story) and I had to separate her when she was young. But, none-the-less. Poppy was one of the original six and her passing marks time in my own life.

I’ve been engaged in what they call “flock management”. Flock management is one of the responsibilities of having a flock of chickens. It sometimes requires making a difficult decision. The decision of having to “cull” one of my hens has taken over a year for me to make. What a heartless sounding word “cull” is. In poultry, or in any animal management, it means “to pick out for rejection for not meeting the standard or to remove for specific reasons”. In poultry speak, cull can also mean “to wring their necks, cut their throats, chop off their heads, or in some other way, dispense of the offender”. Thank goodness, it can also mean to “find them another place to live, or, to rehome”.

Taylor Newton with Petunia

I finally made the decision to “cull” Petunia. Over the past year, this beautiful Golden-laced Wyandotte, became more and more of a “bully”. She had always picked on Rosie, making her life quite miserable toward the end. Sweetpea and Daisy were her other targets but she focusd on Tulip when she was recently sick, until I intervened. I never once saw her attack the silver-laced Wyandotte, Poppy, the matriarch and “no-nonsense” memeber of the group. The final straw was her treatment of Daisy when she was broody. Every time I took Daisy from the nest to try to get her to eat and drink, Petunia would chase her around the run until she went back in.

I removed Petunia from the run and kept her in the garden shed in a dog crate for a week before finding her a home. She was as sweet as sugar during her confinement, gently chorkeling to me, and to Tulip in the next cage, as I went about my gardening. I tried to return her several times to the coop but I could see that I didn’t have the tolerance for the frantic squacking and chaotic disorder that Petunia created. She needed a larger space and what I think of as “rooster leadership”. Yes, roosters do keep peace among hens, but there is an ordinance against roosters in Cambria, so we are doomed here, to have quiet, but confused, flocks.

It was not easy finding a home for Petunia. Many people, I found, did not want to introduce an “ill-tempered” hen into their established flock. I can hardly blame them. Then, along came Taylor Newton, owner of Newton Cultivation in Morro Bay; rescuer of all things living and willing to give a “mean girl” a chance. His rescued roosters far outnumber his hens. But Petunia’s a tough little beauty. I think she will do all right.

I’ve been sad for a few days now. The act of giving up has taken its toll. But my garden is a more peaceful place. The hens seem settled and content for the first time in a long time. As I handed Petunia over to Taylor Newton, I assured myself that  Petunia is getting a chance to be a real chicken, not a pampered pet perhaps, but a real chicken. I wish her well.

.

.

.