by Christine Maccabee
My Last Chicken
My last hen was a beautiful, little blue egg layer, an Auracana, originally from South America. I acquired her four years ago, along with two other larger hens of a different genetic heritage, whose large brown eggs I enjoyed until they both died, leaving me one last unhappy hen: Little Blue. As I always say, people need other people, and the same goes for chickens. Chickens need other chickens.
So began my long journey of finding an adequate new home for Little Blue, as I called her. It was not a particularly difficult decision to discontinue raising chickens, especially with a hard winter coming. My chicken coop is way down the hill in my main veggie garden; many a winter, I have had to push through deep snow, sleet, and rain to let the girls out. They always wanted to go out, no matter the weather, and were healthier for it, as was I. I also had to make sure frozen drinking water was emptied and replaced with warm water to hold them through the day. Then, before dark—and sometimes even in the dark—I had to slip and slide down the hill to close their hatchway door to keep them safe from predators. Now, that was roughing it! My chickens learned to rough it, too, with no electricity; cold oatmeal from yesterday’s breakfast; any greens I had on hand; and, sometimes, leftover spaghetti (without the sauce) made their day. Of course, I always had to refresh their feeder with sunflower seeds, corn, and other feed. The rewards for all our efforts were beautiful eggs and great manure for the gardens!
Those last three hens were not my only chickens by far. My history with chickens and roosters—and mallard ducks—is long and varied, with lots of drama, especially when the black snakes visited. Unfortunately, I cannot go into all of the stories I have concerning them, as that would take a Chicken ‘n Duck Tale book, and I figure such a book would bore other bird people since they, too, have their own stories to tell (note the word”story” in the word “history”). However, every story is unique, though similar in that we all have happy times and sad partings, be it through death or necessary changes.
Sending Little Blue off to a farm—run by a lady I will call “the chicken lady”—was no easy task, but it was one of those necessary changes. My Little Blue was more than a little blue here. In fact, she was extremely lonely after the death of her friend Big Red, with whom she felt safe. Then, after Red’s death, Little Blue became traumatized when a hawk swooped down twice, getting close enough to swipe off a portion of her lovely red comb. After that frightening encounter, she never went out of her coop again. I knew it was time for a big change.
And what a change it was, both happy and unhappy. At the chicken lady’s farm, Little Blue was greeted with some bullying from the top dogs (I mean chickens!). Although she rallied to show her tough side, I am told she is not coming out of her new coop to forage free range with the others. When I heard this, I became very sad for my traumatized chicken.
Yes, not all change is easy, so all I can do is hope that Little Blue gets stronger after trauma and works through her changes, as must we all as we go through difficult times. I suppose it is high time for me to get philosophical about it, according to the writer of the Ecclesiastes quote, for as the seasons turn and change, so must we all.
There are some things I can hold onto, however, and those are the love and the memories of my many birds over the years, and, of course, the great blue eggs! So thank you Little Blue, good luck, and I will miss you.
Note: Good News! The latest update is that my last chicken, Little Blue, is now learning the ropes and getting outside with the other chickens!
