Life and Lols with Lulu (in case you need a smile)

[chrissynemetz]

I've had chickens my entire life, but rarely have I found one with quite this much personality.

 

[Pickled Plaid]

We recently lost our first chicken. To a two legged predator, no less. Putting the girls up for bed that first night was really hard. Lulu took up her spot as the coop "bouncer" right in the doorway of the chicken tractor they sleep in. I checked on them six times before I went to bed. The last time I went out, Lu was settled down, sleepily preening in the doorway. I moved the run, and picked her up. I've never before tried to hug a chicken, but I hugged Lu, and begged her to be careful, to please not get shot too.

That chicken laid her head on my shoulder, nuzzled me, and made little mama hen sounds to reassure me...I was floored. She's only ever used that voice when she's been talking to Christopher. I gently returned her to her watch post, and secured the run. She settled right back down and went right back to preening as if she didn't just get hugged and as if she didn't just dance across my heart strings.

More recently, our little guy got his one year old shots, and felt crummy. He spiked a low fever and just wanted to sleep. Lulu, noticing our absence that afternoon (we usually go out and talk to them a lot through the day, we pick up eggs, offer a cold grape or two, generally just wander amongst them), took matters into her own hands. She marched up the back steps, and started insistently knocking on the back door. By God, she was going to make sure her boy was okay.

Once she saw for herself that he was okay, but not feeling well, she paced back and forth past the couch where I was holding him. She burbled to him in her special Mama Hen voice with every pass. She scowled at me, demanding to know why I wasn't doing more for him. I finally tried explaining to her that he'd gotten shots at the doctor's, and that he'd feel crummy for a day or two, but he'd be ready to play with her again soon.

With a dramatic "flump" she settled down to roost on the floor just below his feet, and began preening with a bit of agitation. Mama Lu wasn't happy, but she accepted my explanation.

On a side note, I still find it amusing that she is quick to refluff her feathers, and dramatically preen with a huff if I don't handle her just so - while Christopher can rumple her butt feathers all day long (not that he's allowed to rumple her, I just can't get him to pet her in just one direction consistently), and she'll just leave them mussed until he's not looking. Maybe she understands that he's not intentionally messing up her carefully coiffed look? I guess that wouldn't surprise me nearly as much now as it would have six months ago.

Here are a few pictures of the Dynamic Duo

 

[Pickled Plaid]

I'm writing this with a cranky Lu, screaming at me from the kitchen, and a little boy whining at me to let his poor girl free. Why, might you ask?

Sigh. Pork skins.

My son found daddy's bag of pork skins...and proceeded to help himself and Lu to almost all of them, before I discovered they were suspiciously quiet (how this child removed and consumed such a loud, crunchy food so silently - while under direct supervision I'll never know - Lulu herself alerted me by performing the Hulk Smash move, trying to break a pork skin into smaller pieces.) Apparently, Lu believes pork skins are the penultimate chicken treat, and I am the evil human coming between her and happiness. Those two are thicker than thieves!



I'd like to add, Lu has made it obvious that human resistance is the only thing standing between her and Full Time House Chicken status. She hikes up her skirts and flat out runs whenever we open the back door. She weaves between feet, she dodges door frames...she is a master of juking.

The other day, she zoomed in directly out of the bath - the dust bath. She fluffed out in the sunbeams, and began preening.

Watching Lu preen after a dust bath is like watching cops empty the pockets of a kleptomaniac wearing a trench coat. The dirt just keeps falling off, and when you think she's got it all, BAM, she shakes another half pound loose. Given her preference, she likes leaving gifted piles of bath dust in at least three areas.



This evening, as the sun got low in the sky, I heard the dreaded scream for help and heard an absolute ruckus outside. A huge hawk had spied our Welsummer pullet and thought she'd be easy pickings. I ran to round up all the birds (the hawk was circling, looking for another opening), checked on Willie the Welsummer, and put everyone in the covered bird yard so they could relax until bed time. Coming back inside, Lu met me at the back door - purring. She was utterly delighted to have been inside for all the drama!

 

[chrissynemetz]

I love these stories!!

 

[BY Bob]

This March I suggested to my husband that we take our then 6 month old son to the feed store to see the baby chicks. My husband found a hurt GLW with a broken foot that *had* to come home with us, along with three other tiny fluffs for warmth and companionship. The GLW was in very bad shape and passed away that night.

The other three, a Silkie cockerel with an attitude, a chatty Welsummer pullet missing any sort of chicken expletive filter, and a thoughtful, laid back Buff Orpington pullet I named Lulu - thrived despite our complete ignorance about poultry. They lived in a cat carrier for the first few days with us, complete with repurposed desk lamp.

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They graduated to a ginormous rubbermaid type tote a few days later, outfitted with a real heat lamp. I had done much Reading of the Internet, and decided to try my hand at fermenting feed.

My first offering of successfully fermented feed was rejected by the fluffs, who regarded the new dish with distrust...until gloriously determined Lulu picked up her fluffy skirts and investigated. She nibbled a little. Thought about it. Nibbled a bit more, and without fanfare climbed completely into the dish and happily began eating her way out. Incidentally, that goofball habitually stood in the fermented feed every day henceforth until she physically didn't fit anymore.

Lulu loved being held from the beginning. She'd preen and doze off in my hand or on my lap, sometimes she'd just sort of slump over in a ball of golden fluff.

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The chicks grew fast, and soon it was warm enough for them to sleep outside. I was terrified of predators, and put it off as long as my husband would let me. His compromise with me involved a little enclosed chicken yard and coop just outside the bedroom window for our six growing babies (Chicken math is absolutely real!)

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We'd noticed that the others picked on Lu a bit in the brooder box, and by the time they moved outside, Lu had made up her mind that she didn't need approval or support from The Mean Girls to live her life. She just did her own thing.

Lu still loved hanging out with me, and was very curious about my tiny, featherless, loud baby. If he was asleep, she began cuddling up next to him.

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When we'd let the birds out for supervised free ranging, Lulu would amble around a bit, but frequently checked on what our son was doing. She even volunteered for a little road trip, and dozed off in my lap, face pressed into my son's carseat!

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We bought our first house in June, a little fixer upper on almost three quarters of an acre. The giant backyard was fenced and full of opportunities to create a paradise for humans and animals alike. We installed a 5x8 coop and fenced in a big bird yard, which we dumped several tons of sand into to prevent mud. The dust bathing was glorious.

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Lulu and the tiny cockerel began clashing with increasing intensity. His adolescent outlook was that all the girls needed to stay together all of the time. Lu didn't want to. She wanted to do her own thing. I hated seeing her stressed and miserable...so I began bringing her in the house while we were working on stuff...and Lu promptly discovered the joys of air conditioning and ceiling fans. She decided she very much enjoyed leaving the politics and social demands of Coop Life behind for a bit each day, and pampered herself with comfort.

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The clashes between the cockerel and Lu got intense enough that I physically separated them whenever we weren't on hand. She didn't hate him, just resented his determination to stifle her individuality. She would even dust bathe with him.

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As Lu got older, so did our son. He got more mobile and became a host of unpredictable sounds and movement. Lu found him irresistible, and if she wasn't following him around, he was following her around. She was completely unphased by his crazy baby drama, and his loud baby toys.

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She finds his crumbs and snack offerings utterly without equal. She can differentiate the subtle sound difference in the crinkle of packaging, and will forfeit every shred of dignity she has to gallop over hard wood floors like a drunk golden retriever in a chicken suit if she hears the freeze dried fruit and veggie package. She learned how to eat out of a baby food pouch (and showed the others). She is a shameless thief of teething biscuit pieces, and comes running when she hears the fridge open (which is nuts, because she's not fed from the fridge, but I guess she sees us eat food we take from it). But she loves being with him even more than she loves food.

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So knowing my girl, I wasn't shocked to hear her knocking on the back door a few days ago, asking to come in out of the heat. She seemed restless, and I wondered if she wanted to try to lay an egg. She snuggled up against my leg, and fluffed and fluffed the blanket on the couch. Our son screeching and laughing and babbling didn't bother her at all, but my middle aged blind dog made her nervous. She jumped off the couch and headed to the spare bedroom, ducked into the closet, and laid her very first egg. I'm still not sure whether she was more proud of the egg, or the fact that she laid it with the Divine comfort of central air!

Last night I went out to check on the birds before bed, and found a very fluffy, and very content buff orpington preening herself at the top of the ramp into the enclosed chicken tractor that the girls sleep in at night. Perhaps the nearly full moon enticed her out, or the soft late summer breezes. Maybe her inner golden goddess of chickendom beckoned her into the doorway away from her comfy roost to simply enjoy a perfect evening.

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I love this crazy chicken! She may be half blind (her poor depth perception is what led to being picked on so much in the brooder), but her heart is absolutely huge. She's sweet, brilliant, opinionated, independent, and hilarious. She comes running when I carry the baby outside to check on them while they're free ranging. She has a special tone of voice she only uses to speak to my son...she's simply amazing to me.

I know many others have incredible girls too, and that this post is waaaaay too long. I just wanted to put my profound appreciation of this remarkable young raptor out there in the universe.

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Great post and great story. Thanks for sharing with us. We're all have those special birds. It is astonishing to me how attached to us humans they can become. You are very lucky. Your son is going to grow up with a great companion!