Queen Tulip 2009-2012

Tulip, the Ameraucana, also called an Easter Egger because she lays green eggs, has been sick for six months now and passed away yesterday afternoon. She had what is called egg yolk peritonitis, also called “internal laying”. It is something that backyard hen owners struggle with because our hens provide us with eggs but are also our pets and live longer than commercial egg producers so are susceptible to organ malfunction.

Egg peritonitis is the result of an egg yolk initially moving into the abdomen rather than being “captured” by the fimbrae at the top of the oviduct. In a normal egg cycle, the ovary releases a single ovum (yolk) which is picked up by the fimbrae at the top of the oviduct. Birds have only one oviduct. The egg passes down through the oviduct picking up albumin (egg white), the egg membrane, and then the egg shell, before being passed out through the cloaca. The cloaca also has the ureters from the kidneys and the rectum passing urine and feces through the same exit point.

We knew Tulip had problems when she began laying those huge rubber eggs (shell-less eggs) several months ago. She was treated with antibiotics but showed no improvement. Oh, it was hard to watch.

Husband Don and I made a “no vet” agreement when I got the chicks but I broke down and made an appointment to see one. We never got there. Because prognosis for this disease in chickens is poor, I pretty much knew that Tulip would be euthanized. There was the possibility that the vet might suggest major surgery to remove her “egg maker” but I don’t think I would have agreed to that.

Yesterday, she stayed inside the little coop until late morning, then joined the others who were scratching around in the garden. She stretched out on her side, absorbing the sun. When I locked the other hens back in the run, I put Tulip in a little crate in the garden shed with food and water. She lay down, and never got up. By nightfall, she was dead.

We buried Tulip near Rosie who passed away two winters ago. She is no longer in pain but Husband Don and I are sad. I didn’t sleep well last night. Our original flock of six is down to three. Three really wonderful hens that are now over three years old. There will be decisions to make but I’m not in the mood to make them. Loving and caring for animals is both joyful and heartbreaking. I’m experiencing the latter now.

Rosie, Our Rhode Island Red (April 2009-January 2011)

We’ve lost one of our beloved hens. She acted a bit lethargic for the past week but continued to eat and drink and get up on the roost with her flockmates. We thought she might be beginning to molt. Then yesterday, when we returned home in the afternoon, she was lying in the damp dirt along the edge of the outdoor run. Don brought her into the house and we wrapped her in a towel. While I was holding her and stirring electrolytes into a cup of water to give to her, she gasped twice and died in my arms. I’m heartbroken. I put her, still wrapped in the towel, in a little cage in the laundry room for an hour believing that she may revive and get up and surprise us all. But alas, she did not. We buried Rosie near the grave of our old chocolate lab and marked her grave with a large river rock.

Rosie did not have the easiest chicken life. She has always been at the bottom of the pecking order. This meant that she was chased away from the finest of treats and was the last to be allowed to get up on the roost at night. A piece of her comb was missing from an exceptionally hard peck and some of the feathers on her head were gone.

Granddaughter Carolyn and Rosie

But Rosie was a resilient little thing. She was first up on our laps. She kept her eyes glued on the house during the day hoping we would emerge with a bowl of scraps in our hands. She was quick to grab a worm or snail that was thrown into the outdoor run. Grandchildren loved her and even strangers could easily pick her up.

It is hard to know why a hen less than two years old would die for no obvious reason. After her death, we examined her to see if we could identify the cause of her death. She had a yellow discharge from her vent as did Daisy when an egg broke inside her. This disease, that kills so many “high egg producers”, is called “egg peritonitis”. Had she shown more symptoms or acted really sick, I might have been able to treat her and save her life. If only…..if only……If only.

Along with the joy of having loved pets in our lives comes the inevitable sadness and loss. This simple creature enriched our lives, made us laugh, and provided us with hundreds of her beautiful eggs. Thank you and farewell, dear Rosie.