Nestled in a thick layer of straw in the corner of the chicken run you’ll find a chicken with bright gold feathers lying still; unnaturally still. If you look close enough you can see her densely feathered back rise and fall as she takes her steady breaths. She opens her eyes, but only wide enough to catch a tiny glimpse of me before they close again. It’s been three days since she has had anything to eat and drink. My heart hurts, and the waiting is difficult. Goldie is her name. My family names all of our chickens after flowers, and Goldie was named after the summer to fall-blooming perennial, goldenrod or Solidago. The bright yellow flowers on the goldenrod plant provide large amounts of nectar and pollen for butterflies, bees, and other insects. It’s a happy plant, so we felt it would be the perfect name for one of our friendliest chickens. Goldie brings us happiness. As Goldie grew, we found that her name was perfect in more ways than one: never leaving my side as I worked in my perennial gardens, following me up and down the rows cleaning the worms up behind me as I tilled up a new garden area (with all the other chickens running terrified from the loud machine). I’ll never forget watching Goldie run as fast as she could – half running and half flying – as soon as I carried a shovel into her view. When I proceeded to dig, Goldie would jump on top of the mound of dirt that had not yet left the shovel and scratch at the pile for any traces of insects or worms. I’m still convinced that she thought she was doing the digging. I’m going to miss the comfort of my constant companion out in the gardens. Goldie started laying shell-less eggs this past year. Her eggs contained the inner egg contents (white and yolk), and an outer membrane – no shell. Why? We are not sure. The layer feed we provide our chickens contains 4% calcium, which is the recommended amount of calcium for strong egg shells. We also provide free-choice oyster shells, so the hens who need more calcium can add it to their diets. Unfortunately, this hasn’t helped Goldie. Two months ago, Goldie became ill after one of her shell-less eggs broke open in the oviduct. The issue was apparent from the color of her feces (the bright orange-yellow of a free-range chicken egg yolk). Goldie was quiet for two weeks, unable to fly up to her usual perch, and chose to lounge underneath the deck during the day. Little-by-little, she improved. This surprised our family, as we read that most chickens who have an egg break inside of them come down with a deadly infection within hours – not Goldie. Goldie was back in the gardens in two weeks. My family came home from vacation almost two weeks ago to find Goldie sick again with that same orange-yellow yolk leaking from her vent. Goldie returned to her coop-floor sleeping corner, she rarely left the underside of the deck during the day, and her comb seemed to droop a little lower. I knew something was really wrong about a week ago when I brought some of Goldie’s favorite kitchen scraps to feed the chickens, and she ran out to inspect them, but she wouldn’t eat them. Goldie parked herself in the corner of the chicken run where she was sheltered from predators and weather four days ago, and this is where she remains. This time, the egg that broke internally was too much for her. Goldie rarely opens her eyes now, her breathing seems more laborious, and her left foot sits just outside her warm umbrella of feathers in the same position it was last night. More than anything, I want to pick Goldie up and cuddle her to give her some comfort. Though, I know this would bring me more comfort than her. The chickens love to be around us, but like to stay on their own two feet; especially Goldie. So, I resist. Instead, my family and I continue to check on her every hour or two, talk to her in soft voices, and give her gentle pets on her back every once-in-awhile. This evening the clouds finally broke after several days of showers and thunderstorms, so I went out to weed the garden. As I walked into the backyard I saw the kids holding some twine and sticks. “What are you two up to?” I asked them. “We are making Goldie a cross to put on her grave.” they replied. I smiled and said “That is so thoughtful of you. Thank you.” But, what I wanted to do was cry. I proceeded to weed the garden without Goldie by my side for the next hour and a half. I miss her already, but the garden is ready for her. When Goldie passes, she will be buried in the garden among the fragrant monarda, purple coneflowers, spikes of Russian sage, large hibiscus blooms, and yellow roses. Hummingbirds will visit her, bees will provide a constant buzz from dawn ’til dusk, monarchs and swallowtails will flutter in and around the flowers, and I’ll continue to weed the garden with her by my side. My son walked up to me today and said “Mom, it’s hard. I don’t want Goldie to die because I love having her as a pet, but I don’t want her to suffer anymore.” The death of a pet is difficult. Goldie has been much more than just a chicken, she has been a wonderful pet, friend, and gardening companion. We miss her already.
backyard chickens
- Animals
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“There’s An Opossum In The Chicken Coop!”
“Mom, Ayla was going after what looked like a chicken in our driveway.” my daughter explained as I was cleaning up the kitchen. It was 12:35am (yes, we are a late-night family), and my husband had just let the dogs out before bedtime. “Did the chicken coop get closed up tonight?” I asked. Just then my son entered the room and said “Yep. I closed and locked the door.” “Did you count the chickens before you closed up the coop?” He replied “No, it was too dark.” Just then I heard my husband yell, “Ayla, leave it!” followed by a bunch of clucking. The kids and I ran to the front door and my son exclaimed “Rosie, what are you doing up here?” As I looked out the door, I saw the dogs running up the sidewalk with our Rosie on their heels. Both dogs ran into the house – the youngest looking very proud of herself for letting the chicken keep all of her feathers (ears held high, tail wagging, tongue out, with a big smile on her face). Rosie, on the other hand, was a little distraught standing on the porch, clucking without pause. I’m not sure if it was because of Ayla’s playful advances, or because she had been locked out of the coop for a few hours. But, for whatever reason, Rosie was here and needed help. I slowly bent down to pick up sweet Rosie. She stood still – seemingly aware of her situation and wanting nothing more to do with it. Rosie gave out two more clucks before she settled into my arms and quieted herself. I slipped on my big snow boots and headed around the back of the house toward the chicken coop. As I neared the chicken coop, I saw that the kids had gone through the house, grabbed a flashlight and their boots, and were heading to the coop too. I also heard several hens out in the attached chicken run chatting as they heard our arrival. “Why are the hens out in the run tonight? They’re never out in the run at night during the winter months.” I said to the kids. Just then, I heard my son say “Johnny, why are you off of the perch tonight?” Our rooster loves his perch – once he settles on it – he doesn’t leave until the sun comes up. “What is going on?” I asked. “We have to thoroughly check the coop and run to see what has the chickens so worked up.” My son had the flashlight, and within seconds I heard him yell “OH MY GOSH! THERE’S AN OPOSSUM IN THE CHICKEN COOP!” I saw a small opossum curled up behind the five-gallon chicken waterer as I peeked into the coop. Johnny had the young opossum cornered in the coop, and he or she looked terrified. Half of the hens were perching high up on their roost in the coop, and the other half had decided that the coop wasn’t safe enough to sleep in, so they were perching in the run – smart birds. I walked back to the chicken run to set Rosie inside while my daughter went to get my husband to help get the opossum out of the coop. As I returned to the coop, I saw Rosie dashing out of the chicken coop. She wasn’t about to be locked in with the opossum. I picked her up again and set her on the high perch in the coop – this time she decided to stay and watch us. My son gave my husband a three-foot stick to try to urge the opossum out of the coop. The opossum showed his or her teeth at first sight of the stick, but then put up with the gentle nudging. Luckily he or she was younger so there was no awful hissing or snarling that older opossums are known for. Meanwhile, our trusty rooster did not leave my husband’s side. If my husband was inside the coop nudging the opossum toward the door, Johnny was right there. When my husband moved outside to keep the little predator moving away from the coop, Johnny was not more than a few inches away from my husband’s legs. It wouldn’t surprise me if our rooster thought that he was the one getting that opossum to move. The opossum wobbled around the coop after exiting and tried to hide beneath a wooden pallet – not too private. My family checked the coop and run one last time before helping the chickens get settled in for the rest of the night. Our opossum experience had the kids on a late-night adrenaline rush, so we talked about our opossum encounter before climbing into bed. We all agreed that: Johnny was a great rooster for protecting his hens a flashlight should be carried out each time the coop is closed for the night in order to count the chickens (and check for opossums) we were very lucky that the opossum was young When my son awoke the next morning, he showed me a short paragraph in the book The Chicken Whisperer’s Guide to Keeping Chickens. Authors Schneider and Dr. McCrea write: Opossums occasionally raid a chicken house, often taking a single bird at a time and clumsily mauling it. Opossums tend to feed on the bird starting at the vent or consume young poultry whole, leaving behind a few wet feathers. They’ll also eat eggs left in the nest. You’ll find eggs smashed and strewn about, often with just small pieces of shell remaining. Opossums may also come in just to eat the grain or feed in the feeder. We were lucky. I can’t help thinking back to when Rosie came to our front porch. She had made the decision to stay out of the coop when it got dark (which is not easy for chickens to do), she braved the dogs in the driveway, and proceeded to follow them to the