Almost a year ago, we added to our brood-our chicken brood that is. Sixteen new chickens (hopefully more laying hens than roosters) brought our coop population up to 24. For about two weeks that is...The first chicken died because it, oddly enough, liked being at the bottom of the chicken pile. I'd pull it out from under the ten chickens sitting on top it's head only to see it tunnel right back underneath. Glutton for punishment that it was, I found the chicken dead one morning. Apparently, it was the eleventh chicken that broke the dumb one's neck. Over the course of the next six months, a territorial new momma dog and her exuberant offspring decimated the flock. Once winter's chill set in, the flock decreased yet again. Frost bite was the cause this time.
So by Spring's late arrival, we had gone from 24 chickens (the final tally was 6 roosters and 16 hens at the peak population) to 3.
And as soon as my hubby has the time to help me, that 3 will become 1.
The reign of the evil twin roosters is coming to an end. About a month or so ago, they went after V. Luckily, L was right there and got between the bullies and their quarry before much more was done than give V a bad scare. Since then, they've left my kids alone.
Until last week...A and V were happily playing outside and I was hurriedly washing dishes before making supper when I heard an unearthly squawk followed by a terrified little girl scream. I don't think I've ever clambered down my front steps that fast. Truthfully, I'm amazed I didn't break a leg as it's entirely possible I vaulted the railing and landed like a cat eight feet below. (Okay, not really, but I was moving down those steps at an awfully fast rate and I certainly wasn't watching where I was going.) The roosters had gotten to A. I immediately got between her and the vengeful birds only to become the object of their malicious desires. After a few well-placed offensive maneuvers on my part sent the birds into quick retreat, I turned to tend my wounded daughter. Luckily, it turned out her frightening-at-first-glance wounds were minor forehead scratches that, while they bled copious amounts at first, quickly stopped bleeding with a damp washcloth and quick first aid. I doctored her up and prescribed extra hugs which had an immediate effect on her disposition. Then I went and locked the roosters in nearly solitary confinement. (I shut the door on the chicken coop and as there's only three chickens left, it's nearly solitary.)
Needless to say, we have two roosters who have a hot date with the stew pot. And soon... I'd do the butchering myself but the big bullies are cowards at heart and I simply can't get near them. It's like they either know my intentions for them or they are afraid to pick on someone bigger than they are.
