A lot has happened in the past month and a half with regard to my chickens. First, I found Goldie lying on the bottom of the henhouse, her neck twisted into a question mark. This is what’s known as Wry neck, a neurological condition that has multiple causes, but it’s normally due to a viral condition for which there is no known cure. I learned all about the various viral conditions in chickens in a $300 one-unit class taught by an avian vet. I thought about just ringing her neck (the chicken’s not the vet’s) but instead we opted to let nature take its course. On St. Patrick’s Day we lost Goldie.
As if one dead chicken weren’t enough, a few days later, I noticed Henna walking tail down. This is a sign of — for the lack of a better term for it — “water belly.” This is usually caused by a blocked cloaca. The cloaca is the end of the birth canal just behind the vent. We did the normal treatment of putting her in a warm bath and massaging her abdomen. We also kept her separated from the other hens on the off chance it was viral and potentially contagious. The bath and massages worked once and Hannah was able to give us the egg, but a week later she got it again. This time she stayed blocked. The warm baths and massaging did nothing. I honestly didn’t think she would last very long after this because her belly was getting big. But she surprised me. She’s still with us! She’s eating and drinking normally and getting around very well, albeit waddling like a duck most of the time. She may walk funny but she’s often the first one to follow me into the coop at night for their nightly mealworms. Other than the waddling gait, she’s acting like a normal chicken and seems happy. I don’t quite know what to make of it but I’m just letting her go along. It’s either that or ring her neck, which Luanne is loath to consider.
Given that I’m down to four laying hens ,and with the weather unseasonably cool, my egg production has severely decreased. What’s a guy to do when he’s not getting that many eggs from his chickens? Answer: Go get more chickens! On March 27, I went down and bought myself six Rhode Island Red chicks. RI Reds are one of the best egg laying breeds around. The chicks are now a month old and quite happy but they’re getting tired of being in the garage in the 24”x36” pen. If we could get a few more days of warm weather, I’d like to create a small enclosure in the back so they can spend some time digging around in the grass learning to be chickens. But the weather isn’t cooperating. It's cold and drizzly most mornings. It does rain sometimes but we don't get a lot of water. When I say "rain", I mean we get just enough rain/heavy dew to make things cold and wet every day. With the low temperatures and the incessant cloud cover, it’s just too cold and damp for month-old pullets.
The new chicks are now pullets but they'll eat the special chick meal for at least another month. I ran out of that mixture so yesterday I headed over to Mike’s Feed in San Leandro where I buy my chicks and my goat rations. While I was there, I noticed they had two Buff Orpington chicks that had been born Wednesday. Earlier, Luanne and I were looking at some videos on Facebook and one of them was on the Buff Orpington. Apparently, this English breed is a very friendly chicken while being a good layer (200-280 eggs per year). Supposedly, they make great house pets. [Insert Cheshire Cat grin here.]
One of the things I learned in the $300 one-unit class on chicken illnesses is that there’s a difference between pets and livestock. You name pets; you don’t name livestock. This time I’m not naming my Rhode Island Reds. Luanne wants to name them, but I don’t want to. They are livestock. Fun livestock, but livestock nonetheless. I want egg layers. Luanne wants feathered pets. To try and instill this livestock versus pets in Luanne I came home from Mike’s with those two Buff Orpington chicks — little yellow fuzz balls — and have set them up in the kitchen in a plastic box. As they get bigger, we’ll move them into a larger crate, but for now the box is working just fine. I told Luanne they were her chickens. She could name them whatever she wanted, and she could have them up in the front yard if she wanted. They are her chickens. So far, she’s leaning toward Adele and Celine because she likes their singing when she holds them. I’m fine with that, they’re her chickens. [Again, insert Cheshire Cat grin here.]
