- Jul 3, 2011
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After 20-odd years of flock-keeping, I realize that my most enjoyable days were with my first flock. They were good stock, and I'd read Damerow's basic poultry primers and gave them good basic care. Four lived to be 7, and one to be 8. During those years I treated one serious injury (raptor attack) and one illness (likely mild stroke) with success. I don't think I ever checked a crop, not knowing that was a thing. I handled them all regularly, looked them over for any obvious problems. That was about it.
With my last (current) flock, I feel I have almost learned too much about what can go wrong, and I wonder if anyone else feels the same. Checking a hen's crop in the morning and finding it not emptied, I become vigilant about her, start applying various protocols. Mind you, she is behaving normally, with no apparent signs of distress. But now I am worrying because I have learned that her crop should be empty in the morning, and it is not, and what is about to go terribly wrong that I might prevent or remedy with timely action? Too much of this sort of thing sucks the joy from chicken-keeping, replacing it with a sort of worried watchfulness.
I am not suggesting we be oblivious to our animals, nor that we not try to address problems they are expressing symptomatically. More that one cost of always proactively looking for problems is diminishing our own enjoyment and perhaps exposing our birds to protocols that aren't needed. I now think chickens are a lot more work and a lot more worry than I used to, and that makes me sad. So in my final years of hen-keeping, I hope to retrieve some of the pleasure I initially knew, to become less ever-vigilant and more accepting of inevitable illness and decline, especially among my older girls.
With my last (current) flock, I feel I have almost learned too much about what can go wrong, and I wonder if anyone else feels the same. Checking a hen's crop in the morning and finding it not emptied, I become vigilant about her, start applying various protocols. Mind you, she is behaving normally, with no apparent signs of distress. But now I am worrying because I have learned that her crop should be empty in the morning, and it is not, and what is about to go terribly wrong that I might prevent or remedy with timely action? Too much of this sort of thing sucks the joy from chicken-keeping, replacing it with a sort of worried watchfulness.
I am not suggesting we be oblivious to our animals, nor that we not try to address problems they are expressing symptomatically. More that one cost of always proactively looking for problems is diminishing our own enjoyment and perhaps exposing our birds to protocols that aren't needed. I now think chickens are a lot more work and a lot more worry than I used to, and that makes me sad. So in my final years of hen-keeping, I hope to retrieve some of the pleasure I initially knew, to become less ever-vigilant and more accepting of inevitable illness and decline, especially among my older girls.