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.

Have you noticed that Tulip, the Ameraucana (Easter Egger), has not been laying? We tally the number of eggs laid on the white board inside the coop at the end of each day. Tulip molted in October and never “started up” her laying routine again.

Tulip's shell-less (or "rubber") egg

Now she’s begun laying soft-shelled eggs commonly called “rubber eggs”. Not a good sign. A hen will often lay a few shell-less egg over the period of her lifetime, but it usually not a constant thing unless there is something wrong inside her. The hens body does not go through the last step of egg production where the shell covers the membrane with another layer that hardens into the outer shell. This used to happen to Petunia (our little Golden Laced Wyandotte). It would take her by surprise and she would squat and out would come a soft-shelled egg bouncing on the dirt. Rosie, our little glutton, would run over and peck at it and the other hens would gather around and eat the egg’s contents as it spilled out.

Big, beautiful, Tulip has had problems with laying on occasion so this is not a surprise. Last June she was so sick, I had to remove her from the flock for two weeks, keeping her in a cage in the garden shed. See “Tulip is Ill”. Now she again has a problem in her “egg maker”. Her eggs not only have a soft shell, they are not being expelled, and are “stacking up” inside her.

I went to the run the other morning and Tulip was in the corner, head down. Not a good sign for a hen. There, beside her was the most disgusting blob I’d ever seen. Well, almost the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen, after all, I raised boys. Kind of a greenish mass. I was tempted to run but I am a responsible poultry owner and am level-headed and quite mature (at least I’d like to think so). I picked the “thing” up. Yes, in my bare hands. I didn’t want to leave the hens alone with it because they have the philosophy, “If you don’t know what it is, eat it!”

Shell-less egg within and egg, etc. next to a normal egg

Don helped me dissect “the thing”. It was a shell-less egg, within an egg, within an egg, within an egg, within an egg. Five eggs, one inside another. It weighed 8 ounces. Oh, that poor girl. She must have been forming it and carried it around for a month. Within a few hours, she was running around with the other hens, scratching and dust bathing. What a relief she must have felt!.

But I feel no such relief. I know that when things go wrong with the “egg maker” inside a hen, it usually does not correct itself. But there’s always hope. Look at Daisy. She’s had lots of problems over time and is laying lovely eggs now, nearly every day of the week. So, I’m keeping an eye on Tulip. I’ve reduced their “treats” and provided lots of calcium in their diet. Hopefully, she’ll get back to her old self again and give us those big, beautiful, green eggs to enjoy.

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Hens Scratching Among the Raspberry Plants

I don’t let my hens free range. Free range means to forage in an area that is free of fences. I don’t even know of a place that is totally free of fences. And if I did, I don’t think my hens would last a day. We have hawks flying over daily. The foxes look at our chickens through the wire of the run. A bobcat strolls through our yard a couple times a year, and our chickens have no fear of animals of any kind. But I know that these four hens like to scratch about in my garden. It is good for them to add greens and protein to their diets and it is good for their souls, and mine.

Yesterday, I let the hens out of their run to keep me company as I gardened. The gardening task, for me and hubby, was to cut back the raspberries and the ollalieberries. This also required digging out the runners that were spreading underground. We had been digging a while when I heard the hen softly clucking from behind their fence as we turned over the earth near their run. I knew they saw things in the soil that we didn’t; delicious grubs and worms and pale green sprouts. They were making the sound that a hen makes when they call to their chicks to “come and get it!” Since our young and rambunctious Australian labradoodles were locked up (I wonder if I will ever trust them with the hens), I let the “ladies” out to scratch and dig in the freshly turn soil.

"Herding" Tulip Is Not an Easy Thing to Do

We sat down and watched them, these most beloved pets. Daisy, Sweetpea, and Poppy did not hesitate to rush to the moist overturned soil. Tulip, the Easter Egger, stayed in the run and watched the others. She is a pretty but somewhat timid thing. I tried “herding” her out of the pen but it was nearly impossible. Have you ever tried to herd a chicken? They dash back and forth in front of you and duck between your legs to go in the other direction. Making progress, foot by foot, I knew that when she got close to her sisters she would be fine. And that she was. They were happy to see her, and she them. They scratched, they shared, they enjoyed being chickens.

After a couple of hours, the hens headed back into the run on their own. These hens have lived in a secure fenced-in environment all their lives. While they love getting out into the garden to do their thing, they return to their pen without objection. They have lived a safe and healthy life, living much longer than they would if they were to range free. I’m going to stop feeling sorry for them and share in their joy of occasional freedom.

I’d love to have a rooster but our hens don’t really need one. I’m an early riser so the crowing wouldn’t bother me. But then again, there are my neighbors to consider. There’s an ordinance in our community that allows us to have up to 20 hens but no roosters. So a rooster is out of the question.

The reason I’d like to have a rooster is not that my hens need to lay fertile eggs. Fertile eggs are no more nutritious than unfertile eggs. Besides the little blood spots in fertile eggs gives me the shivers. I don’t particularly want to see my beautiful ladies jumped on either. In fact, some rather “rough” roosters can be quite damaging to hens. There are “saddles” made for hens to protect their backs from particularly aggressive roosters with particularly passionate mating behavior. You don’t believe me? See the saddles at “Hensavers“. They come in colorful designs and according to promotional material, the hens love colors and the fit!

There are good things to say about roosters. A rooster can be protective of hens. They will often stand their ground when a predator goes after a flock. My sweet Australian labradoodles will run up to the hens, frightening them and causing the girls to squawk and run. That makes the pups get even more excited and they give chase. They think it’s a game! A rooster wouldn’t put up with those shenanigans for a second. He’d stand up to them, puff out his breast, and send them packing.

Roosters actually look for food for hens, then call them to come get it. If a rooster finds a really nice stash of bugs or other tasty treat, it will often call his harem to come enjoy the feast. Now that is what I call a good provider.

Some roosters know how to “keep the peace”.

I’d like to have a good rooster because they “keep the peace” among a flock of hens. We’ve had our share of “cranky” behaviour over the past 2 1/2 years from hens with no authority figure. I’m tired of pecking orders, aggressive hens, and just plain “unsavory actions” in the chicken coop. I think that a rooster would help to alleviate that. I’m not sure why roosters are so good at keeping the peace. We know that roosters can be fighting birds among themselves.

Some roosters can become aggressive and territorial.

Besides the crowing that can occur any time of night or day, there is another downside of having a rooster around. They can be mean. When I was a youngster, my father had chickens that he raised in cages up off the ground. He would have two or three in a cage where they were kept until they grew to fryer age. One cute little Rhode Island Red was constantly being picked on by its fellow “inmates”. My father let the “cute little thing” free-range. That “cute little thing” grew, and grew, and grew. Pretty soon, he thought he owned the place and would attack both kids and adults when we came in the chicken house to do our chores. He would chase us, peck our legs, fly at us with spurs extended. My father, who was as protective of his children as the rooster was protective of his territory, won the fight with the rooster. The “cute little thing” made a delicious meal that was enjoyed by all.

I’ve talked to the hens. Yes, they would enjoy the occasional company of a fine, handsome, gentleman. But then again………………….

If you have a picture of a handsome rooster that I could add to this blog, please email it to me. I’ll try to fit it in!