First, allow me to thank all of you who contribute to this site. I just joined but had been reading about a huge variety of issues and advice since last spring when we got our first chickens. Unfortunately, my seven girls were killed in a horrible fire - entire garage - at the end of January. They had taught me so much, but that last lesson was one I could have passed on. We will try again, though. I LOVE being a chicken mom! Next time, smoke alarms and baby monitors in the coop, for sure.
My story is about Darth Veda Saltenfuss, named for her ferocious temperament as a young girl, and her beautiful green-black feathers. She did mellow out, but "Veda" stuck. One summer afternoon when we had been in and out, doing some work in the basement, it struck me that I hadn't seen her with her pals, Big Red Chicken and Mrs. Bush, for a while. I called her. And called. And called. No Veda, but all the others were following me around, fully expecting a treat after all the ruckus. I started to hear some muffled clucks, but I couldn't hear where they were coming from. I looked everywhere in the garage, the yard, the neighbors' yards, the woodsy area across the street. No Veda. It eventually occurred to me to look in the house - she LOVED to sneak in and poke around, but I had always caught her before she could do much floor damage, if you catch my meaning. Anyway, I looked on the first floor, checked the basement. And our second floor. I could hear her, but could not see her. We do have a third floor - a giant open space that does duty as a guest room, storage area and playroom for my granddaughter. But I couldn't imagine that she had been able to navigate all those stairs. Ha! I finally went up, and there she was, perched on the ledge over the steps, by that time hollering her head off. I scooped her up and put her down next to the food and water outside. She told me that she had been calling and calling but nobody came to rescue her. I felt awful, and told her so. Then it hit me that she'd been up there plenty long to make a nice mess. I went back up, but was surprised not to find any poop. There was, however, centered perfectly, pillowed by the down comforter on the bed, a lovely light brown Veda egg, still warm.