It happened a few weeks ago when we were in Granby. We had 3 when we left on Friday, July 16th. All was seemingly fine. Saunders and I had come back to Boulder for a piano lesson on the 20th, after which we enjoyed some nice mother-daughter time, then dinner with my cousin Ritchie. We arrived home from dinner ~8pm and Ritchie asked to meet the "ladies." We had let them out of their coop to free range ~3pm that afternoon and by this time they would be enjoying a nice snack in our garden or a dust bath underneath the big tree north of the house. Instead, we found that Henrietta aka Meany had pinned one of them in between our sunroom and the downspout and she was pecking the heck out of her butt, already having done quite a number by the time we came to the rescue. The other hen was pecked and de-feathered in that area as well and both were bloody and obviously hurt. I consider myself fairly resourceful and capable, but I couldn't help but think, "why isn't Brian here to handle this?" Now what? Clearly, we had to separate the injured two from Meany. Out came Tex's dog crate again, which Ritchie and I secured shut with garbage bag twisty ties. We put Meany in the dog crate and the others in the coop, Ritchie called a friend for advice and got the name of the "chicken lady" at Murdoch's in Longmont. They were closed, so it would have to wait until the next morning.
Saunders and I went to bed and I spent a very sleepless night expecting to wake to 2 dead chickens in the morning. Low and behold, they were alive the next morning. Once Murdoch's opened, I called and spoke with Carol. She said that perhaps they craved salt, so put table salt in their water and keep them separated. What she said next disturbed me; give the two injured chickens a bath. "A bath?" Hmmmm, this was NOT on my bucket list, nor was it something I ever thought I would be doing in my lifetime. While not from a large city, I still consider myself a city girl, so once I got over the initial shock that I now had stepped slightly into farmer girl world, I then wondered, "How the hell do you give a chicken a bath?" Next logical step - google it!
As Saunders and I watched a YouTube video of a woman giving her rooster a bath in her kitchen sink, I really wondered if this was all worth it. "Do I really want fresh eggs this much?"
To our horror, this woman then towel dried the rooster and began blow drying the rooster's feathers and the rooster LOVED it.
Clearly, we would not be giving our chickens the royal spa treatment, so out came the gloves, rags, dish soap, bucket and spinach. I filled the bucket with warm water and had the sprayer on the hose set. Saunders was ready with a handful of spinach for our first victim. Too bad all of our hands were occupied because a video of this would be priceless. I grabbed victim No. 1 and threw her in the bucket and with gloved hands I began scrubbing her behind and then rinsed her off with the sprayer, while Saunders fed her spinach. Not really sure whether the spinach made her feel any more secure, but it was worth a try. After the bath, we set her on the concrete for a quick towel- dry and the weight of the water made her fall over! Again, wish we had a camera. Bath No. 2 went much the same way and after a quick dry, let them loose in the yard to air dry.
Now what? We were heading back up to Granby that afternoon and our neighbor was going to be looking in on them. I felt so guilty for this and I knew that I needed to come up with some great thank you gift for them other than 3 fresh eggs each morning. And with the 2 hens badly scarred, only Meany was still laying, so they were not even getting their original, intended allotment. Again, I questioned, is this all worth it?
We went about our day and it was finally time to go and I tried to get a hold of our neighbor to give her the new care instructions. Once she got home, she came over and I went though the "new set- up." She felt that all of this was her fault because she was not letting them free range all day as we had been doing. Instead, she would only let them out while she checked on their food and water. While this may have contributed to their agitation and Henrietta's transformation from lead hen to pecker hen and from Henrietta to Meany, it was certainly not anyone's fault. This happens in the chicken world. I have been told that often when there is no rooster present, one hen make take over as "head honcho." And once a pecker always a pecker. There is no way we can introduce any more chickens into our coop until Meany is no longer.
Now the question is, do we "off" her and get more from Gina in Erie @ Wildfire Farms?
http://www.wildfirefarmsllc.com/index.html
OR just wait and see how she does through the winter and then get chicks in the spring?
The bummer about all of this is we only get 1 egg a day and there is hardly any entertainment value in having just 1 chicken. Chickens are flock animals, similar to the way dogs are pack animals; they like the group mentality, except in this case Henrietta/Meany seems to do just fine all alone. Maybe she will die a lonesome, cold death this winter or maybe she will be just fine. Either way, I am not so far in the farmer girl world that I am going to kill her and have her for dinner. I will become a vegetarian again for sure.
That's all for now, stay tuned to see what happens to Meany.
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