Monthly Archives: January 2011

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.

Draining Rainwater from the Outdoor Run

It has been an eventful holiday season in the ole chicken coop. Heavy rains along the coast brought unexpected flooding. We live on a slight downslope. Water drains from the forested open space behind our property and on down the hill. Standing water has never been a problem but, then again, we’ve never had 10 inches of rain in such a short amount of time. During the heavy rains, the empty gopher holes looked like little springs with clear water bubbling up and out. Wonder where the gophers are hiding?

Making its way downward to the ocean, the water spread across the outdoor run and stayed there. It was two inches deep in areas. The hens spent much of their time on the milk crates and the ladder. Luckily, the indoor coop has a cement floor that stayed high and dry but these birds are used to being outside and only go inside to lay and to roost at night. For two days, they waded about in confusion. Eventually we made a small trench through the outdoor run that provided an escape route for the sitting water.

Ameraucana and Buff Orpington are Laying Again!

The good news in the chicken coop had us all cheering (even the hens). Our dear Daisy, a pretty Buff Orpinton, was ill last spring. See “Daisy is Ill”. She hasn’t layed since then. Daisy is one of my favorite hens: gentle, tame, calm. I consider her a pet. After her first molt in the fall, she began laying those beautiful brown eggs again. I think that she is as happy as we are. Tulip, the Ameraucana, also finished her molt and has resumed laying her green eggs once again. What a pleasure to find those lovely pale green eggs among the brown.

Golden Laced Wyandotte is Molting

There are more falling feathers in the mud of the chicken coop. Petunia is experiencing her first molt. The golden laced Wyandotte, the prettiest and the meanest of the six, is shedding her golden fleece. She and Sweetpea mope around, listless and lethargic, with bare bottoms and necks, waiting for their new coats to grow in. When they do, they’ll look renewed and refreshed and will hopefully resume laying again. We’ll all be happy, then.

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