Plan B

(continued from the previous post,  FREEZING PHOEBE )

So. The ice-pack trick had no effect on Phoebe's perpetual broodiness.  

I planted a glacier of ice packs in the nest box and she found her way around it, squeezing onto a tiny bit of bedding that remained in the corner.  So I rearranged the ice packs and then she scratched and tore them and the ice melted and dripped out and that was fine with Phoebe, who sat blissfully upon the whole soggy mess.

So I moved on to  Plan B:  The Broody Pen.

As it was suggested by several chicken-friends, I fashioned a little pen for Phoebe just outside the run.  She had water, food and safety, but she had no nest box to sit in. 

This appeared to be a comfortable setup, but for Phoebe it was a heinous torture chamber. She paced and fluffed and ranted and panicked.

In response to her distress, all of the ladies stood beside her at the edge of the run, and there they remained, compassionately close to the little jailbird. Because a flock is a flock, even if one member is doing hard time.

At night, I placed her back into the nest box, under house arrest until morning when I took her right back to the correctional facility. 
  
It took only three days to rehabilitate this little gal from 

to 

On that third day, she stepped out of the nest box, stood up straight, and returned to her esteemed position at the very bottom of the pecking order. 
When I opened the gate that morning, Phoebe accepted a peck on the head from each of her friends, and then tore out across the yard to trash my garden with her team.  

Everyone was happy to have Phoebe back.  

Well, almost everyone.

Character

Lucy's toes remind me of this photo by Alfred Stieglitz,

of Georgia O'Keefe's hands.

So much character. 

And since "adversity builds character", 

I guess that's why Lucy is full of it.

Out in the coop, I was photographing Lucy's twisted toes

when Pigeon scampered over to see what all the fuss was about.

She took a good myopic look, 

and then she noticed that Lucy's head was above her own.

This, according to the Official Chicken Rule Book, 

is an extreme gesture of insubordination.

In defense of her position as Queen of the Coop, Pigeon raised her hackles and placed her beak beside Lucy's. 

Lucy remained calm and still, to assure Pigeon that she had no intention of overthrowing her regime.

Pigeon thought about that for a bit, while Lucy waited politely.

Then Pigeon turned toward me to see if treats might be in order.

Pigeon herself is not without her own adversity... you can see character in her toes, too.  She's not in pain, but these bent toes do tell a story of hardship that she endured before she came to live with us.  
Those days are forgotten -- but they certainly contributed to her character. 

Maybe that's why these two gals share a special bond.


...They're sharing a special dog house, too -- 
I've made some changes in the chicken yard. 
But that's another story!

Fern's Amazing Rubber Egg

They say that one nest box is all you need for three or four hens. But when one of your hens is Lil'White, that's another story.


Lil'White hogs the nest box.  Always has.  


Sometimes she pretends to be broody, like this: 

Ouch!


...I swear she's faking it. 


Last year I made a new coop for my five gals, with TWO nest boxes.   
One for Lil'White, and one for everybody else.   


For some reason, everybody preferred Lil'White's nest box, so there was still a line of anxious hens waiting their turn.

Then I had a clever idea. 

I placed a rubber egg in the unused nest box to make that box appear desirable.


Instantly, that second nest box was deemed eggworthy by the flock, and we never had a problem with a long queue again.   


But another problem did creep up:

Her name is Fern.


Right about the time of the rubber egg, Fern stopped laying.
Until that time, she was laying beautifully -- 

Her petite blue eggs were regular treasures... maybe three or four a week.  


The shutdown of little Fern's internal egg factory was a mystery.


There are several reasons a hen might take a break from laying during the summer -- hot weather, a molt, broodiness, poor health...   I didn't see signs of any issues or problems in Fern.  

She was still the little whippersnapper she'd always been. Still getting into trouble.

(Closeup: Fern waits for Lil'White to resume pecking her on the head.)


Fern must have had her reasons for not laying eggs, and I supposed she'd get back to laying pretty soon.


Sure enough, after a few weeks, Fern did start marching into the nest box each morning. 

She preferred the box with the rubber egg. 

Every day, she settled in and hunkered down.


And when she was done, she stepped out onto the upper perch 

to formally announce her accomplishment. 

The problem:   
There WAS no accomplishment.
Fern wasn't laying anything.  
No blue eggs. No eggs at all. 


She still isn't laying, and it's been FOUR MONTHS.


For four months, she has been going through the motions, daily. 

...looks like Daisy's been here already.

Does Fern think she's laying a rubber egg every day?


If that's what's going on in her tiny little head, that's okay with me. But I really am dying to know.


If she never lays a cute blue egg ever again, that's okay too.  She won't end up in the stewpot because I still appreciate all the redeeming qualities that make her...well... Fern.


I guess Fern is just a bit unusual...


But, then, aren't we all?

BULLYING -or- The Evil Orpington

Orpingtons are reputed to be one of the most docile and friendly breeds of chicken. 

So why is Lil'White such a sociopath?

She started out as sweet as could be.  

Was an inner fury brewing in that fluffy little soul?

You can't blame it on the mother (me).   My girls enjoy spacious accommodations--- more good food than they ever can cram into those little crops of theirs--- safe and spacious roosting areas ---- plenty of entertainment and activity.

There's no logical explanation for her brutal behavior.  

Not only does she viciously defend her #2 position in the pecking order ...all...day...long, incessantly and unprovoked, 

but she brutally attacks ME every chance she gets---  

---appearing innocent and curious all the while.   

My legs receive most of her abuse, but whenever I squat down to chat with the ladies, she quietly slips around back and pecks mercilessly -- maniacally --

at my butt. 

  

I feel that if she had the appropriate weapon, she'd kill me--drag me to the woods and  bury me in a shallow grave behind the compost pile.   But all she's got is a little beak and a twisted little mind.  She doesn't scare me one bit. 

She sure put the fear of chickens into Grandma, though.

Fern and Daisy take most of her abuse,

but they're young and quick  so blood loss is rare.

Now I'm wondering if young impressionable Fern has picked up some nasty behavior from Lil'White.

Recently, suddenly, Fern decided that she will be above Daisy in the pecking order.  It was kind of sad to watch because Daisy and Fern had been little allies from the start.

Two tykes, 

inseparable.

When Fern started attacking her, Daisy clearly had better things to do than to bicker about her social rank.  She just got out of the way.

Now Daisy's kind of on her own.

She keeps to the perimeter.

But, because she's an awesome gal, she makes the most of it.

There's more adventure to be had when you're on your own...

like suddenly discovering

The Car.

Bedtime is a stressful time for Daisy.  I used to rescue Fern from up in the dark rafters every night, but now I leave her up there alone, rather than let her torment Daisy on the roost.

So Daisy has had only one beak to dodge in the evenings -- Lil'White's.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  

Last night, however, when I went out to lock up the coop, I came upon a pretty little sight.  

All five sitting quietly on the summer roost.

I hope it's a foreshadow of harmony to come.  

PIGEON RULES

What are some important leadership qualities ?

Hm. 

Here's Pigeon, the leader of the flock, the day I met her.


Upside down.  


Skinny, bloody...  far from healthy.  
(click here to read more about Pigeon's beginnings)

After a few weeks of tender rehab, she did seem much healthier.  
She joined the flock and slipped herself right into the lead position vacated by our dear-departed-Hatsy.

But Pigeon, our new little leader, followed Lucy around like a puppy.

As it turns out, Pigeon is extremely nearsighted.  

In fact, she's darn near blind.

This explains why she's always underfoot. 

I've nearly stepped on her several times, 

and have to be careful not to chop off her little head 

when I'm working in the garden.

  

I offer her a tomato, and she pecks to the left of it.

Even when I toss her a wiggling worm, 

she has a tough time finding it... 

she's pecking to the left again.

...but that's okay.  

There's still Bravery and Smarts, right?

O.K.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At the beginning, Pigeon was afraid of everything. 

She was afraid of worms. 

She was afraid of the sky.

She's still scared of Marky, but  tries not to show it.

So.  Maybe health and bravery aren't that important after all.

As for. .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  

Well, she's not the brightest bulb in the coop.
She's got a pretty average little pea-brain beneath that comb.  
I'd rank Daisy and Lucy as the smartest gals...


But hey, we've known leaders who have made it to the top despite even catastrophic stupidity.

So what is Pigeon's strength?

Compassion?

In a chicken?

Yep.

She shows it in so many ways.

She is very considerate of Lucy's challenges.

Lucy's an older lady who's had some really tough times.  And this year Lucy chose to molt in January....not the best time to be half-naked in New England.

So Pigeon stands beside her and keeps her warm while they nap.

And from her very first encounter with little Fern and Daisy, Pigeon has shown only kindness.

Here she stands near them and preens -- which, in chicken-talk, means "hi there- I'm not going to kill you"... of course, the chicks don't understand that yet. They're cowering in the corner, awaiting a painful death. 

But there's one particular moment of sensitivity that really struck me.....
It was last Fall.
I was offering a piece of clover to Pigeon and the little ones.

Pigeon looked up and saw Lil'White running toward the babies in order to murder them.  
While Pigeon had nothing to fear, she knew that the babies did.
She warned them of impending doom, and little Fern and Daisy fled to the forsythia in the nick of time.


It was a simple gesture.
But a true gesture of compassion.
  
I haven't seen sensitivity like that among dogs, or cats.... 
or in hundreds of hours of nature shows.     
But here it is -- in Pigeon.

Pigeon, honey, you rock.


.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  
Now, I don't know whether it's compassion or curiosity or trust --
but Pigeon tends to be the favorite of all the kids who come to visit.

And that's a story for the next post!

.....Next post:     Chicken Socks