Fluffy Butt Acres: Stories of our flock

[Lady Red]

@Scrambles83
There are literally tears running down my face. What a lovely tribute!

 

[BY Bob]

Tribe 1 exiting my coop after a successful raid. Fat Bird making sure they haven't left anything edible behind.
View attachment 2615407

Good job Fat Bird. Bucket Boy is not going to eat it anyway. Might as well make certain it doesn't go to waste.

 

[Grammy60]

Hey all.
Bob said I could share this on here. Thanks again for that @BY Bob
Although my short story didn’t win, it sounds like it was well received which is nice.

View attachment 2615523

So here it is, be kind
The topic was ‘the gift’.
Sorry it makes for a VERY long post!


FAR FROM PALTRY; THE POULTRY GIFT.

A new adventure for us. A new life for sisters that knew nothing but cramped conditions and sadness.
The gift of my feathered ladies.

When we first brought you two girls home we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, of how you would become part of our inner circle. Our toddler gave you the names Henny Penny and Bok Bok; Penny and Bok for short.
The gift of family.

You were hesitant at first when you were let out of your coop and into our yard to free range. Soon enough you were Queens of the lands you surveyed, never worrying if it was a plant, weed or a new garden bed you happened to be scratching up.
The gift of freedom.

I loved to sit in the sun and watch the two of you dust bath. I would read my book and listen to your bawks, clucks and trills as you relished in the chicken-y things that made your life joyful. The squeaks when you found a particularly tasty bug and wanted the other one to know about it, or when you would get corn and you couldn’t contain your passion for the golden kernels you were swiftly devouring.
The gift of pure happiness.

Of course then there were the beautiful big, brown eggs, so delicious that eating store bought ones now makes me melancholy. They will never be as lovely as what you gave us, my sweet girls.
The gift of perfect sustenance.

When you first free ranged with our terrier you were so unsure, but he was gentle and eventually you found peace with him. You did challenge him on more than one occasion where food was concerned. It was lucky he’s a goof and just barked in response.
The gift of diversity.

I remember it hailing really hard one day in July of ‘19. Our very young daughter and I went out to see you girls exploring in the little ice spheres, deep against the fence of your run. She starting saying ‘Happy Christmas, chickens!’ to you and it made my heart warm even though we were quite chilled.
The gift of nature.

When you tried awkwardly to sit on my lap while I was reading on the outside couch on a warm summer evening;clambering along the edge of the patio furniture, swaying this way and that with your destination always at the forefront of your minds.
The gift of adventure.

I clearly recall when you fell ill, Penny. I did what I could, as much as my narrow knowledge allowed. I soaked you in warm baths, I felt for eggs that may have been stuck, I trimmed your messy feathers so you would still have your fluffy butt hence your dignity. I sobbed when I knew there was no saving you. This impending loss of a companion I never expected to love so much weighed heavily on my heart. You spent your last night back out in the coop with Bok, together until the end.
The gift of sisterly bonds.

Bok became lonely without you. My heart broke when she would call out for you, thinking you had just been separated by backyard obstacles. After a time or two, when you never answered, she stopped trying. She lost her zest for life and began to give a growly crow when coming out to greet each day. I knew I had to do something, Bok.
The gift of compassion.

I was unsure I was taking the right path when I brought home two pullets. You then proceeded to boss them around; letting them know who the top bird was. I saw your enthusiasm return and my heart grew lighter.
The gift of friendship anew.

Now, old friend, your time is fast running out. Each day that passes I see it looming to greet us. I thought I would be more prepared when your chapter closed. I was fooling myself. You sit on my knee, letting me stroke your soft feathers in the sunshine, falling asleep like the old lady that you are. Your body is giving up, maybe I should not be so selfish and hear what you are trying to tell me. Truth be told, I’m just not ready yet.
The gift of contrition.

You began as providers of eggs but became so much more.
At the end of the day, the gift of love is one we gave each other in spades.

I agree @Scrambles83 , I am also crying while reading this i love how you have honored them ❤❤

 

[Scrambles83]

@Scrambles83
There are literally tears running down my face. What a lovely tribute!

I’m very glad you liked it.
A way to remember my first ladies and there were so many more moments that I couldn’t fit in the word count.
It was a long shot, writing about chickens. If you’ve never had them you don’t get it as much, so it was a nice surprise that I got a response from them

 

[Scrambles83]

I agree @Scrambles83 , I am also crying while reading this i love how you have honored them ❤❤

Thanks Grammy. After a month of considering what to write for the topic given, Bok started to go downhill and it hit me. Shame I figured it out only 2 days before cut off but I did what I could

 

[RoyalChick]

Hey all.
Bob said I could share this on here. Thanks again for that @BY Bob
Although my short story didn’t win, it sounds like it was well received which is nice.

View attachment 2615523

So here it is, be kind
The topic was ‘the gift’.
Sorry it makes for a VERY long post!


FAR FROM PALTRY; THE POULTRY GIFT.

A new adventure for us. A new life for sisters that knew nothing but cramped conditions and sadness.
The gift of my feathered ladies.

When we first brought you two girls home we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, of how you would become part of our inner circle. Our toddler gave you the names Henny Penny and Bok Bok; Penny and Bok for short.
The gift of family.

You were hesitant at first when you were let out of your coop and into our yard to free range. Soon enough you were Queens of the lands you surveyed, never worrying if it was a plant, weed or a new garden bed you happened to be scratching up.
The gift of freedom.

I loved to sit in the sun and watch the two of you dust bath. I would read my book and listen to your bawks, clucks and trills as you relished in the chicken-y things that made your life joyful. The squeaks when you found a particularly tasty bug and wanted the other one to know about it, or when you would get corn and you couldn’t contain your passion for the golden kernels you were swiftly devouring.
The gift of pure happiness.

Of course then there were the beautiful big, brown eggs, so delicious that eating store bought ones now makes me melancholy. They will never be as lovely as what you gave us, my sweet girls.
The gift of perfect sustenance.

When you first free ranged with our terrier you were so unsure, but he was gentle and eventually you found peace with him. You did challenge him on more than one occasion where food was concerned. It was lucky he’s a goof and just barked in response.
The gift of diversity.

I remember it hailing really hard one day in July of ‘19. Our very young daughter and I went out to see you girls exploring in the little ice spheres, deep against the fence of your run. She starting saying ‘Happy Christmas, chickens!’ to you and it made my heart warm even though we were quite chilled.
The gift of nature.

When you tried awkwardly to sit on my lap while I was reading on the outside couch on a warm summer evening;clambering along the edge of the patio furniture, swaying this way and that with your destination always at the forefront of your minds.
The gift of adventure.

I clearly recall when you fell ill, Penny. I did what I could, as much as my narrow knowledge allowed. I soaked you in warm baths, I felt for eggs that may have been stuck, I trimmed your messy feathers so you would still have your fluffy butt hence your dignity. I sobbed when I knew there was no saving you. This impending loss of a companion I never expected to love so much weighed heavily on my heart. You spent your last night back out in the coop with Bok, together until the end.
The gift of sisterly bonds.

Bok became lonely without you. My heart broke when she would call out for you, thinking you had just been separated by backyard obstacles. After a time or two, when you never answered, she stopped trying. She lost her zest for life and began to give a growly crow when coming out to greet each day. I knew I had to do something, Bok.
The gift of compassion.

I was unsure I was taking the right path when I brought home two pullets. You then proceeded to boss them around; letting them know who the top bird was. I saw your enthusiasm return and my heart grew lighter.
The gift of friendship anew.

Now, old friend, your time is fast running out. Each day that passes I see it looming to greet us. I thought I would be more prepared when your chapter closed. I was fooling myself. You sit on my knee, letting me stroke your soft feathers in the sunshine, falling asleep like the old lady that you are. Your body is giving up, maybe I should not be so selfish and hear what you are trying to tell me. Truth be told, I’m just not ready yet.
The gift of contrition.

You began as providers of eggs but became so much more.
At the end of the day, the gift of love is one we gave each other in spades.

So lovely. It made me cry. Beautifully written. I can’t imagine why it didn’t win but that feels unimportant.
Thank you for sharing.

 

[BY Bob]

I’m excited. We can share poop slides on this thread! My friend @Hen Pen Jem also does her own fecal floats. She shared her info with me, but I accidentally deleted the email and need to resend her my email address.

The pullets are all too pale in the comb for my liking. They are all laying, so shouldn’t they have big, fleshy combs like the older girls? I’d love to check their poop for coccidiosis and worms.

Ruby’s avian vet appointment was crazy expensive. I love her, but I can’t keep this up financially and she’s slowing down over time, even with treatment.

I got both Ruby and Dorothy started on antibiotics. Dorothy is still laying lots of eggs without shells and few eggs with shells. I fear all the calcium therapy has likely been pretty hard on her organs. Ester is also not laying and the back of her comb has been tinged blue on and off for a bit. Not my favorite, as that’s what Margo had two summers in a row and ended up with a septic infection from chronic egg yolk peritonitis.

But here is something AWESOME... despite being first to roost (only by a few minutes), Ruby was standing up and preening on the roost! Usually she’s tail tucked (like they all do when they sleep), heavy breathing and tail slightly pumping. She DEFINITELY feels better than before her avian vet visit.

Someday... someday.... I will have well-bred chickens who live full, healthy lives. In the meantime, I will continue to love a and enjoy my little rascals.

Thanks for letting me ramble!

I am glad that Ruby is feeling better. That is excellent news.

Just because the pullets are laying doesn't mean that their combs are always bright red. Weather can also play a role in comb color.

I'm sure I have asked this before but how old is Dorothy?

 

[BY Bob]

I understand this and the logic behind it.
I would if I could, but at the moment we only have the old prefab coop and to me having 3 in there (space wise) was pushing it, especially with the size Snow has gotten to! I don’t think it would be fair for that reason to shove 2 more in.
As far as scrambling to find new ladies if something happened to one of them, it seems there’s plenty of farmers that have all sorts of pullets available through the year.
Apologies, I know 2 isn’t the best number but I will have to make it work for now.

It's all good. We all have our limitations and you have to do what is best for your flock. We were trying to share what our experience has been.

 

[BY Bob]

I love them, too. Poor Hattie. But... ahem! She was blocking my view. LOL.

Dual purpose you know. Not her fault.

 

[Scrambles83]

So lovely. It made me cry. Beautifully written. I can’t imagine why it didn’t win but that feels unimportant.
Thank you for sharing.

Thanks RC.
It felt ‘unconventional’ for a short story, but it felt right how it came together to fit the topic