Today as I was in the backyard with Bo and the Production Reds, I heard the rushing of air and stood up from my gardening, just in time to see a mature RTH strike the back of one of the Production Reds not 30 feet away. She flapped furiously; the other hens scattered, and the hawk took off with her in it's talons. She was still flapping her wings as I lost sight of her over the row of 8' shrubs which cuts my property in two, and I ran after. The hawk couldn't get enough altitude to clear the row of 30' trees at the back of my property, and she was still flapping her wings, and he dropped her.
I ran to her; he had obviously punctured a lung, as she had blood coming from her mouth. Her feet were not moving; only her head and wings. As I held her, she "bawk"ed a couple of times, and with tears running down my face, I walked with her to my dispatching tool, talking to her. I told her that she was going to be alright, that she was going to the big coop in the sky, where she would always be safe, and she let out one low, long, "bawwwwkkkkk", and passed away.
I hate to say it, but I wish the hawk had kept her; at least if he had gotten a meal out of it, it wouldn't have seemed like such a senseless death. As it was, I went ahead and processed her, so she wouldn't go to waste. She was the only one of the Production Reds laying eggs (they're 28 weeks old!!!), and they were big, fat beauties. When I opened her up, there were all those unlaid eggs inside, just lined up, waiting. That made me cry even harder. I asked my neighbor if he would take her; I knew there was no way I could eat her, not after having seen that.
I thought if I was near, the girls would be safe to range in the back yard. I don't know what to do now; they will be miserable in a tractor, but I don't want to lose another girl. That makes 2 gone, of my original 5, and Bo (the Barred Rock) is still laying pullet-sized eggs after 8 weeks of laying!
RIP, sister.
I ran to her; he had obviously punctured a lung, as she had blood coming from her mouth. Her feet were not moving; only her head and wings. As I held her, she "bawk"ed a couple of times, and with tears running down my face, I walked with her to my dispatching tool, talking to her. I told her that she was going to be alright, that she was going to the big coop in the sky, where she would always be safe, and she let out one low, long, "bawwwwkkkkk", and passed away.
I hate to say it, but I wish the hawk had kept her; at least if he had gotten a meal out of it, it wouldn't have seemed like such a senseless death. As it was, I went ahead and processed her, so she wouldn't go to waste. She was the only one of the Production Reds laying eggs (they're 28 weeks old!!!), and they were big, fat beauties. When I opened her up, there were all those unlaid eggs inside, just lined up, waiting. That made me cry even harder. I asked my neighbor if he would take her; I knew there was no way I could eat her, not after having seen that.
I thought if I was near, the girls would be safe to range in the back yard. I don't know what to do now; they will be miserable in a tractor, but I don't want to lose another girl. That makes 2 gone, of my original 5, and Bo (the Barred Rock) is still laying pullet-sized eggs after 8 weeks of laying!
RIP, sister.
