Rest in Peace Lillie, Pretty Boy, Julliette, Lillia, and Julia. Initially it appeared I lost Shaq too but he was found on the other side of the fence and made his way to his pen with some encouragement about an hour after the whole ordeal occurred. Too, I thought my rooster Dusty was gone but found him on the south side of the property by the pond- alive but frightened. He too made his way as well into his coop but was seemingly rattled.
Dogs are the biggest threat to chickens and most especially to the rooster who will fight a huge dog to protect his hens. The rooster will not win in such an event. Such was the case today I’m afraid. It looked like Pretty Boy stayed with his hen but both lost their lives this afternoon about 4 p.m. Rest in peace. Once a dog gets the taste of a chicken, he most likely will live the life of a chicken-killer whenever he can.
This dog has gotten my birds once before. The last time, there were no covers over my coops and when the dog barked at them in the pen, they apparently flew up and out. This time, I had fully enforced sides, tops and gates. I can only figure that when he barked at them in the pen this time, they either flew and forced the feeding door open or the front door latch gave way from the force of them flying into the wire. I don’t know. When I got home, the birds’ bodies were still warm and my neighbor was cleaning up feathers and gathering dead birds.
My whole body went limp when I saw feathers in the front yard and my eyes filled with tears when I saw beautiful Big Boy sprawled next to Julliette in their lifeless bodies. There really are not words about how I felt. The hurt and sorrow in my being writhed from the loss of my pets; my chickens.
This may sound hokey to some, but these chickens are like people to me. Each are named and have their own personality. For example, take Dusty. Every day I let him out to free range. He stays around the coop and today, because of his knowledge of flying on top of the coops to look down at the girls, he probably was saved from an untimely death. Each morning after he gets let out of his run, he follows me around as I get fresh water and food for each flock.
Dusty is one of the first birds to crow in the morning. There is a ginny in his pen who awakes him and I think it makes him want to get out of his coop so he begins early to wake all around. I feel as if he’s calling my name and yes, I respond by moving towards his pen to let him go free. When he crows, he offers a loud “er, er, er, er, errrrrrr” The last “errrrrr” is long and forced. It’s as if he tries to be louder as he winds down his crow. It’s like he wants to be big and tough. His morning cry is different than that of the former Pretty Boy. His crow was tiny but he was just learning. He was only 4 months old. I raised him from a 2 day old chick and as time passed he began to crow and was testing out his own sounds morning to morning. I could tell his crow each dawn separate from that of Shaq and Dusty.
Juliette was prissy and fanciful and Lillia- buxom. Each chicken is important to me whether it be a Silver Wyandotte, Buff Orpington, or Jersey Giant. I care about each and every life. Stacey made it but is limping and lost a bite off of her right back hip. I will probably put her in the hospital tomorrow so others won’t peck at her wounds. Chickens do that ya’ know.
I do not raise chickens as a business or to make money and I give away all eggs. These are pets to me. I care for them just as others do their dogs, or cats. Almost every morning I use “Snap Chat” (Nanvr3) to share their beauty to the outside world. Some say, “Why do you do that same thing every morning?” Wouldn’t you if you have such beautiful creatures to show? Tomorrow, we will have a moment of silence out there. If you’re a Snap chat friend, please join us although it will be very sad.
My neighbor apologized over and over and I know he felt bad as would I. I feel sorry for him though because in fact, he’s got a chicken-killer on his hands. There is no remedy except incarceration. This dog must be relegated to his home or fenced yard. That’s it. My neighbor also paid for me to replace the loss and I appreciate that kindness. But, while I will use the money to get hens and a Silver Wyandotte Roo, replacements are just not possible; only adding new life. There will never be another Lillie, Pretty Boy, Julliette, Lillia, and Julia. RIP my fine birds.
