There’s a Chicken in my Kitchen –
and Another in my Bathroom!
by Sharon Gaughan,
PCLF Education Program Director
Some people have a
hard time leaving their work behind at the end of the work day. I’ve
always been one of those people, but now that tendency has reached a new level
for me. For a while now, I’ve been bringing one of the Learning Farm
chickens home with me – and now for the past week, I’ve been bringing two chickens home to roost.
Here’s the story…
If you’ve been following this blog, then
you already know:
- The Learning Farm adopted out most of
our previous flock of 2-year-old hens last fall.
- About a month prior to that, I
selected two hens from the flock to be our Children’s Garden chickens: Rhubarb (a Rhode Island Red) and Rutabaga (a
Buff Orpington).
- In November, we purchased 100 Bovans
Brown hens from Sandhill Family Farms to replace our previous flock. These hens were less than a year old at the
time.
Shortly after getting the Bovans Brown hens settled into the winter hen house and chicken yard, I attempted to introduce the
Children’s Garden chickens into the new flock.
I didn’t feel that two hens in a small chicken tractor would be able to
keep each other warm enough through the coldest winter nights to come. But I also knew that introducing two chickens
into an established flock was not likely to go well. Turns out, it went half well.
Bovans Browns are not a breed, but a
hybrid – a cross between a Rhode Island Red and (depending on the source you read) either a Rhode Island White or a White Leghorn. Rhubarb (the Children's Garden Rhode Island Red) seemed to be
accepted into the flock without much fanfare – perhaps because she’s about the
same size as the Bovans Brown hens, and not that different in color (Rhubarb is
definitely a darker, richer reddish brown – but still reddish brown).
Poor Rutabaga, however, was not so
lucky. Her coloration is very different
from the others, and she is small for a Buff Orpington – therefore smaller than
the Bovans Brown hens. They picked on
her from the start, so she tended to keep herself somewhat separated from the other
hens.
It wasn’t long before we noticed that
one of the Bovans Brown hens was also being picked on. Many of her feathers had been picked off her
back, neck, and the shoulder area of her wings.
As she was part of the original flock, it's uncertain why she
was being singled out.
I had read about “chicken saddles” and
ordered one for this Bovans Brown hen (whom we later named “Radish”). A chicken saddle covers a hen’s back and
helps protect those feathers. Unfortunately, the wings and neck remain exposed
to the pecking abuse. Radish doesn’t
seem to mind wearing the chicken saddle, and it affords the additional
advantage of helping to keep her a bit warmer (a concern with her lack of
feathers) – so it definitely helped, but didn’t fully solve the problem.
Between Anya and myself, we made sure
that Rutabaga and Radish were briefly removed from the flock a minimum of twice
each day, so that we could ensure that they were getting at least some food and
water – as well as getting a bit of a break from the others. They would both come running whenever they
saw either of us, knowing that they were about to get some special treatment.
This went for a few weeks and seemed to
be working okay, but then the winter temperatures took a nose-dive. With the colder temperatures, the majority of
the chickens were spending the majority of their time in the henhouse
and very little of their time in the more spacious chicken yard. With their closer proximity to each other,
and boredom that comes from being inside all day, their bullying
intensified.
Rutabaga was fairly good at staying
clear of and/or dodging the pecking of the other hens, but Radish tended to just
hunker down and take it (which likely explains why Radish was missing feathers and Rutabaga wasn't). Radish also
tended to stay outside more despite the cold, no doubt to escape the others –
but having lost so many of her feathers, even with the chicken saddle, this extreme
cold seemed to be hard on her and I would often feel her shivering when I
picked her up.
One day, after watching three hens gang
up on Radish at the same time, I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I started bringing Radish into my
office during the day, and home with me at night. I carried her back and forth in a large dog
crate, and that’s where she slept at night – but if I was nearby I also let her
wander semi-freely in my work office or home kitchen.
For the most part, this was an acceptable temporary arrangement.
After Radish was removed from the flock,
we continued to ensure that Rutabaga was getting her twice daily food, water,
and break – and it seemed that she was managing to hold her own within the
flock – that is, until last Sunday (February 3). I came in to work to do my usual afternoon
“chicken chores.” I looked for Rutabaga to come running, but I didn’t see her
inside the hen house. I started my
chicken chores in the hen house, looking for her all the while.
After finishing some of my chores, I walked outside to look for her in the chicken yard. In the area right outside the two chicken
doors, there was not a single hen to be found.
Clearly, all the chickens were keeping inside on this cold and windy
winter day. Or were they? I let myself into the side-gate of the
chicken yard, and turned the corner to see something that truly broke my
heart.
There was Rutabaga, standing all alone
on one leg, with her body hunched and her feathers fluffed up against
the wind – the only hen outside on this bitterly cold day. My guess is either she chose the cold over being
picked on – or perhaps she wanted to come back inside and the other chickens
wouldn’t let her. I wondered how many
hours she had stood out there.
I picked her up and brought her into the
hen house, placing her on a bale of straw.
She simply laid down, feathers fluffed up, shivering. I seriously wondered if we would lose
her. I felt I had no choice but to bring
Rutabaga home with me, to join Radish in my kitchen on that cold Sunday
afternoon.
Fortunately and surprisingly, once
Rutabaga warmed up and ate some feed, she bounced back quickly – and after an
hour or so she seemed fine.
For the rest of that day, I worried
about and tried to decide what I would do come nightfall. Despite the fact that Radish knows what it’s
like to picked on, she still sometimes will pick on Rutabaga. I didn’t think that it would work to have
them spend the night together in that dog carrier. Where else in my house could a chicken safely
sleep?
After much thought and several rejected
ideas, I finally decided to clean out my bathroom of anything breakable. Then I took some of the straw out of the dog
carrier, placed it in my bathtub, and set Rutabaga down upon the straw. She immediately scratched at the straw a bit,
made herself a comfy nest, then settled down to sleep. Problem solved, for now.
It’s a week later, and the temperatures
have warmed a bit – but we’ve also gotten our first big snows. And guess what chickens dislike even more
than cold temperatures! Yep! Snow!
I’ve been encouraging our flock to spend
time outdoors by spreading old straw over the snow just outside their chicken
doors, and then scattering some feed and/or scratch. That does work to get as many as half of them outside
for part of the day, but they’ll only venture as far out as I’ve scattered the
straw – and we only have so much old straw to scatter. Not to mention the fact that each time it
snows, the straw gets covered and I need to start all over again!
So until the flock starts spreading themselves out
by spending more time outdoors in their chicken yard again, it looks like I’ll
continue to have a chicken in my kitchen and another in my bathroom. While Radish isn’t the first chicken that
I’ve ever had sleeping in my kitchen, Rutabaga is definitely the first chicken
that I’ve had sleeping in my bathroom! My
cat is adapting.
At least this weekend, with the
relatively warm temperatures, Rutabaga and Radish spent most of the daylight
hours in my backyard – in a snow-free area under an eave and sheltered by the
bushes. They seemed to have a great time
scratching and dust bathing, and soaking in a bit of sun, when the sun was shining.
I
realize that the pecking order in a chicken flock is the natural order of
things, but I still want to ask the hens, “Can’t we all just get along?”
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