Chickens

 A couple of years into my marriage my husband convinced me we should raise chickens on our one tenth acre lot. We purchased two Americans (Easter eggers) chicks to encourage my two eggs for breakfast eating habit. Thus, started our chicken rearing adventures. 10 years later I still have lessons about the care of these feathered bird brains. My most recent tutorial I hope never to forget to keep tucked securely to my heart.

 I will have to admit this has not been a great year for our chickens to thrive. Having troubles raising chickens can be rather normal. During my fourth year raising chicks I was determined to have plenty of eggs leading me to make crazy purchases. The outcome resulted with driving unnecessary distances, mites, and deadly viruses (for the birds). After making many mistakes I vowed never to purchase a chicken unless it was no more than a week old chick.

This year recognized I recognized we had three year old chickens and it was time to prepare for replacement. Five chicks were purchased. One night I forgot to place a protective covering for the week old chicks. The next morning two chicks were missing. One was left dead. So, I bought three more. After the chicks reached three months old, I realized two chicks would not be laying eggs. They were roosters. So much for being sexed. Then I had an established hen spontaneously kill over in the run. Having two roosters was demonstrating trauma to my hens thus my husband graciously removed (bang) one. Then bewilderingly I had a chicken just up and vanish without the slightest trace to what had occurred.

Needless to say, we were having complications. Then it got worse.

A few weeks ago, we returned from a five day camping trip to Virginia. While the family was away our next door neighbor fed the chickens and cat. For that brief bit of time quite a bit of chicken feed had been consumed. My first thought was, “Why were they fed so much?” However, I brushed the thought aside to be distracted by, I am sure, a screaming child. Then there were several days when the chickens’ water can showed up empty in the morning. “I must not have set the water can level.” Now and then the chicken feeder would be knocked over or empty. “Why are the chickens so messy?!?!”

In hindsight do you ever look back at certain details wishing you had examined more closely wishing you had not assumed? Each minor bit of evidence I can now see was overlooked with distraction or carelessness. If only I had not been indifferent.

My typical habit with chicken care was to release the chickens in the late afternoon to free range for a couple of hours. Then once they returned to the coop to roost, I would replenish water and feed without disturbance. Finally, I would lock the run and shed (where they lay eggs) just after collecting eggs. This way I would not need to return until the next afternoon to avoid morning visits unless I had food scraps to offer.

Unfortunately, last week during my afternoon visit I discovered an astonishing site. My rooster lay limp in the run with a broken neck, feathers scattered about, and exposed organs. I stood there dumbfounded. The remaining chickens pranced around as if all was normal. I looked the pin and coop over searching for any sign of false entry. Nothing appeared obvious.

Even though I found the unintended rooster a pest (he was aggressive towards me and the kids) I was still saddened by his mysterious death. I removed the corpse for a closer examination. The body was stiff but lacked odor. My assumption was perhaps he had been stung since I was seeing countless hornets flying before the cold weather struck. Then possibly the other chickens went cannibal on him dying only a few hours prior. The body was tossed to the trash. Water and feed refilled. The coop was locked for the evening completing my nightly ritual.

Breaking habit I decided it would be wise to check on the chickens the following morning. My heart sank when my eyes fell to another chicken laying dead and exposed. This time the skin was torn apart showing the breast meat, untouched, while a tunnel was burrowed through to the bowels. Again, the remaining chickens behaved unconcerned without signs of disturbance to the coop.

When I reported my findings to my husband this time he responded with, “It sounds like you got a raccoon lurking.” Once I disposed of yet another body, I returned to the scene of the crime searching for any clues.

Upon closer examination I noticed my net covering over the run had a slight interruption where two pieces overlapped were now pulled inward. This very slight separation also happened to be beside a tree that leaned towards the run. Assessing the tree, I saw a trail of missing tree bark moving up the trunk and ending precisely at the height where the netting was split through. I was satisfied I had found my port of entry. The raccoon had climbed the tree managing to push the overlapping nets apart to slip in.

I felt devastated as I realized all the clues and warning of an intruder becoming more and more bold, but I never connected the dots. Feeders pushed over. Larger amounts of feed consumed. Water cans empty. How long had this pest been visiting?

We made better arrangements to protect the chickens. Even though they prefer to roost in the open air coop I had provided them a roosting stand in the shed. I forced them in at night then lock the shed tight. It does require I release them in the morning, but all the better to check on them more frequently.

Many attempts have been made to catch the culprit. Using a trapping cage was unsuccessful. One night could have been a catch, but the rodent must of have thrashed so well he freed himself leaving the cage ten feet away from the original location overturned. In the meantime, I placed Christmas bells on the netting hoping to scare off an intruder and removed the ladder to the coop making in harder for entry. My husband thought it best to bring in the big guns focusing on a trap specifically designed to catch raccoons called Coon Cuffs. The idea is because raccoons have a hand like reach they can scoop up food from a tube and release the cuff by pulling a lever up. This design prevents dogs or cats from being caught. Well, the very first night it was hidden by the coop sure enough the next morning a raccoon was waiting to meet his doom. But more are sure to come because that is nature.

Why am I writing about my dead chickens? Its not about the loss of the chickens that bothers me. I have had my share of chicken death. They are definitely at the bottom of the food chain. It was the clues, bits of evidence of a suspect growing bolder and bolder while I ignored the environment. During my prayer time God pressed that truth in my heart and it stung. I realized I need to be attentive to the signs of my children being tempted. We as a nation have been distracted with our comfortable lifestyles. We may react indignant when our liberties are stolen from us. However, the steps that led us here have always been in plain sight. It just did not hurt until the major blow became a jab.

My children, I never want to be complacent or nonchalant about their behavior being a phase or that’s how they’re wired. Every experience they have is going to be cultivated one way or another. I, of course, want to plant good seeds and lovingly water and encourage with sunshine while also creating a fence of boundaries and prevent unwanted influences that want to harm my crop. The world is a ravaging lion prowling to seek what it may devour. I must offer better protection than what I provided the chickens. Disinterested minimal attention.

I know I cannot protect my kids from everything, but I can provide them a safe loving home. That is my goal right now. I want them to know home is safe full of love and encouragement. I fully admit I am not perfect in this regard; however, I am under God’s grace. This realty I am pressing into because despite my weaknesses I long to receive his love and wisdom for the days ahead.