Skip to content

RIP, chickens

February 25, 2010
by

On Thursday, February 4th 2010, a loose pitbull entered our yard and killed six of our chickens.
_MG_5425.JPG

Among the casualties were our alpha-hen, Ginger (pictured above), Stegasaurus, Lucille, and all of our Rhode Island Reds.  The pitbull was picked up by animal control and the owners have been instructed to compensate us for the loss.

It’s hard to put into words the emotions that this incident created.  We’ve lost chickens to predators and disease before, and we had plans to butcher several hens this Spring.  The mental image that causes me the most sadness, all the hens watching in terror as the dog kills one after another of their flock-mates, is hard to push out of my head.

The flock is down to four chickens, three leghorns and an ISA Brown. We plan on getting more hens soon, stay tuned…

Advertisements
4 Comments leave one →
  1. February 25, 2010 12:28 pm

    Poor chickens,
    so sad,i feel so bad to hear this news,
    things will get better………………….when I was in my early twenties,my father gave me the pleasure of taking care of his Rhode Island Reds,double yoaks every morning,and the pleasant greetings from the 8 girls……………….1 rooster too.

    (I don’t mean to eaves drop)
    Rest in Peace Chickens,
    Kindest Regards,
    Laz

  2. Harlan permalink
    February 25, 2010 12:28 pm

    Condolences, guys. That sucks.

  3. Erbob permalink
    March 9, 2010 9:16 pm

    I hope y’all don’t mind some related poetry..
    This is called: Heading north.

    I stood in the quiet alley waiting for her to get her car keys from inside the house. The light in her old car was on although she had not driven it since her accident, about three weeks earlier. Neither of us knew why it was on, we just knew that it was on, and that it had to be turned off. I waited outside for her because I wanted to give her a hug and say goodbye.
    As I stood there in the quiet evening, I heard a large flock of geese approaching from the south. It was early March, and although it was still chilly, the days had become noticeably longer and spring was in the air. I looked up into the clear sky trying to find the flock. I stared upward into the deep blue sky, gazed at a few bright stars, and then watched a long, windy, magnificent flock of geese glide directly over my head. Their cries rang out wild and loud, and I imagined their tired wings flapping endlessly. As I watched, the wind blew softly and rustled in the trees around me, and I imagined how during more simple times, people may have gathered or paused to appreciate such an amazing scene. I took a deep breath of cool spring air and lost myself in the beauty and majesty of nature.

    Just then, from the busy street a block away, came a different kind of honking. Past the row of houses and through the trees, I watched as two cars raced by. The second one, the one that honked, had those ultra bright halogen lights, the ones that have an extra bright bluish hue. It loudly flew by as the geese softly flew away.

    By now she had come out of the house and had turned off the light in her old car. I said “bye.” She said “see ya later” and without giving me a hug, opened the car door to get in. I was cold, so I turned and started to walk home. Then I heard, approaching from the north, the helicopter.

  4. June 23, 2010 6:41 pm

    I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m terrified of our neighbor’s dog getting some of our chickens. We just got eight chickens today, six Dominiques (1 roo, 5 hens) and a mated pair of silkies. I’m keeping them in for two weeks to accustom them to their new home, but I’m nervous about later.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: