Shadrach's Stories

[Shadrach]

Great stories! I haven't gotten a chance to read all of them yet, but I love the first story's first person (or chicken, rather) concept with a punch of behavioral insight to tie it all together. It reminded me a little of Richard Adams. Have you read Plague Dogs?
I can see why you didn't write Cheepy's story the same way... pretty difficult to put yourself inside the mind of a chicken that doesn't know "how to chicken"... but it might make an even more engaging read for that very reason.
Keep writing!! You definitely have a keen eye for observation and a great voice as a writer.

I'm pleased you like them.
There are a few written in the first person. Sometimes I just can't find the imagination to make this work. Other stories are fleshed out diary entries. While the stories are the heart of the book, I draw on the stories as 'evidence' for some fairly serious comment regarding chicken behavior at the end of the book.

 

[Fields Mountain Farm]

Of course. He was an orphan and I dragged him up.

He's a lucky fella!

 

[micstrachan]

Dandy and Skunk.

Dandy was one of four siblings hatched by Mini Minx (Bantam). Her father was most probably Major (Maran) the head of Tribe 1. Dandy and her siblings were the first natural hatchings at Can P.

Dandy was hatched in a wire cage kept in the car port. As soon as it was clear her mother Mini Minx wasn't going to hatch any more eggs, Dandy was moved to coop T1, along with her siblings and mother. Dandy spent the first seven weeks of her life being cared for by Mini Minx and Random. (See Mini Minx and Random)

Major's genes were dominant in Dandy and she developed Maran blue/black plumage with copper/gold streaks in her neck feathers and an upright comb. Dandy was right footed and had a faster ground scratching movement than the pure Marans. Dandy grew to be almost as big as the other Marans but her bantam genes meant she was more inclined to take flight. Dandy seemed to be a well adjusted young hen. She quickly learnt who to avoid, where and when to go for food. She was the first of the clutch to start independent exploration of her surroundings, her two sisters tending to follow her lead.

Mini Minx abandoned her chicks at around 7 weeks. She moved in with Harold (Tribe 2) leaving Dandy and her siblings in Coop T1. She didn’t encourage Dandy and her siblings to follow her into Tribe 2’s Coop nor did she return to her original tribe home to introduce the chicks to the Marans in Tribe 1. One night a few days later the Dandy and her siblings were quietly moved into Tribe 1’s coop. Dandy and Where (one of Dandy’ sisters) with their obvious Maran genes were accepted by the rest of Tribe 1 with few problems and they quickly established their place in the Tribes hierarchy; Dandy becoming senior to Where and junior to Mora and Fat Bird.

While Dandy lived in Tribe 1's coop, Oswald (Maran Male junior to Major) looked after all the Maran hens. When their coop was opened in the morning Oswald would head off with the Maran hens for the day while Major (the largest of the Maran males) did his rounds. Oswald would respond to Dandy's escort call and cover her on the rare occasions she laid an egg away from the coop. I never saw Dandy pick a fight. She rarely pecked at Where her junior and being of an easy going temperament, rarely got on the wrong side of Mora and Fat Bird her seniors.

For a few months Dandy led what seemed to me a contented and stable life in this group.
Both Dandy and Where, Dandy’s sister, laid their eggs in the egg box attached to the side of Tribe 1’s coop. When Dandy decided to sit on the eggs Where continued to lay her eggs alongside Dandy’s and eventually in the disputes that followed regarding who should sit on the eggs a couple of eggs got broken. While Dandy left the coop on a regular basis to feed and dust bath, the possibility of returning to find her sister sitting on the eggs meant Dandy tended not to leave the eggs unattended for very long and probably eat less than she needed for the days to come when the chicks take priority.

Can P was busy on the day Dandy was due to hatch her eggs. I should have checked on Dandy that morning but it was mid afternoon when I finally went to see how things were going.

When I opened the garden shed door and looked into the nesting box Dandy was wedged into one corner and in front of her were two broken eggs with two dead chicks hanging halfway out with what looked like bite marks on parts of their bodies.. On the floor was another partially eaten dead chick with rat droppings close by.

While rats are very unlikely to take on an adult chicken, they will take eggs and if given the chance, newly hatched chicks. I was to learn more about this at a later date when another hen called Dink sat on her eggs on top of a palm tree stump.

At this time there was no provision for emergency accommodation for chickens. Fortunately I had found a 60cm x 60cm plywood cube at the local dump a few weeks earlier and after hurriedly making a secure door with a wire mesh insert and placing it on trestles in the car port, Dandy was installed in it with three remaining eggs. Within an hour Dandy hatched the sole survivor of the clutch, Skunk.

The next day I checked on Dandy and Skunk at regular intervals providing food and water when necessary. While Dandy couldn’t walk about in such a confined space, she could stand and did stand and allowed little Skunk to come out from underneath her to eat and drink. A couple of hours later I went to change the water and food and Dandy didn’t get up and lunged at the food from her sitting position. When I gently slid my hand under her body and carefully lifted her to standing position she would collapse in a heap when I removed my hand. It became apparent after a few more attempts to get her to stand that Dandy’s legs had become paralyzed.

In the following weeks I tried to discover what I could about paralyzes in chickens. There are some harrowing stories on the internet where peoples much loved hens have become paralyzed. There are two recognised causes of chicken paralyzes; Marek’s disease and paralyzes caused by extreme stress. Marek’s disease once caught is terminal. There is a vaccination that is partially effective. What little verifiable information I could find regarding paralyzes due to stress gave varying outcomes; some died, usually at the owners hand, or by request at a vets and some recovered. Recovery times varied enormously. I read some stories where the hen recovered the next day, in other stories it took weeks. However, none of the stories I could find gave much useful information on what could be done to maximize the chances of recovery should it be possible.

I don’t know what caused Dandy’s paralyzes. What I believe is someone wanting to see and touch a baby chicken opened the temporary coop and tried to grab little Skunk. Maybe they succeeded and given the trauma Dandy had already been through this was too much stress to cope with.

I was due to leave for England that evening and backing out of the trip at the very last moment didn’t seem to be an option.

What I found when on my return from England when I went to look for Dandy was Dandy and Skunk had been moved from the converted box in the car port to a triangular coop with a covered run I had built for hens with chicks in mind. Dandy was still paralyzed. Nobody had thought to mention that Dandy’s condition was unchanged, not when I got picked up from the station and not when I arrived at Can P.

I also found that Cheepy (see Cheepy) had an eye infection. Nobody had taken either to a vet.

We are fortunate in having a vet called Gloria who specializes in birds and fowl in a town close by. After examining Dandy (little Skunk came along too) she ruled out Marek’s disease and attributed the paralyzes to stress. She thought there was a chance that Dandy would recover but usually such chickens are killed. Very few people can be bothered to look after a lame chicken. I was going to be one of those very few. If Dandy had a chance of recovering I was determined to make sure she got it.

Gloria advised a vitamin supplement and I made up a special diet comprising walnuts, oats, yogurt, fresh greens, sesame seeds, corn, combined with the growers’ pellets that all the chickens here get. Every morning I would get Dandy into the covered run with Skunk bouncing around her and encourage her to eat. She got vitamins in her water and in her food and if she hadn’t consumed the prescribed dose by the end of the day, squeezed into her beak with a syringe.

Having read a little about people recovering from paralyze I devised an exercise program for Dandy. My thinking was that if Dandy carried out what would be normal movements the brain and nerves would start talking to each other again. One of the most natural leg movements for a chicken is scratching the ground looking for food.

I would sit on the ground with my legs outstretched and place Dandy between them. With one hand I would support her body and with the other carefully make her claw follow an oval trajectory touching the ground in each cycle; ten rotations per leg. I would let her rest a while and lift each wing in turn making flapping motions. I got quite adept at this after a while and found I could slide my first finger and little finger under the wing shoulder and flap both together while supporting Dandy in the standing position.

Next I would stand Dandy between my legs and move each foot forward to mimic walking while supporting her body. I found that her balance was more affected on one side and Dandy would push one wing out as that foot moved foreword. I needed three hands! At the end of each session I would try to encourage Dandy to take a step on her own. I would move one leg forward and remove my supporting hand whereupon Dandy would nosedive into the ground with one wing flapping and lie there giving me reproachful looks.

Not once did Dandy try to peck me and I’m convinced she knew I was trying to help. I did on the occasions that she nosedived particularly awkwardly get an indignant squawk but throughout the weeks this program went on for Dandy spoke with her eyes. She knew she was helpless and the trust she placed in me was astonishing.

I tried, and most days succeeded, in getting Dandy out for “therapy” twice a day. The sessions lasted about twenty minutes and I could see Dandy found the sessions exhausting and dispiriting. Skunk on the other hand seemed to think the whole business was wonderful and sat on my leg chirping encouragement, sat on my head and played queen of the castle and as time went by, began to explore her local surroundings. Dandy’s concern about Skunks antics became such a distraction for her that concentration became a problem and I split the sessions; a bit with Skunk out and a bit with her in the coop, much to Skunks disgust.

Much to my surprise none of the other chickens seemed at all perturbed by these sessions. Major came by on his rounds and stood a metre away watching from time to time and only once came right up to Skunk and put his head to the ground, his eye about two centimeters away from Skunk’s, stood like this for maybe ten seconds and walked away.

After about three weeks of sessions both Dandy and I were on the point of giving up. You could see in her eye and her demeanor that she was losing hope. Her head would go down, the stabilizing wing flap became less vigorous and she would look at the coop more and more towards the end of the sessions as if to say, let me be.

I too was losing hope and trying not to resign myself to Dandy’s inevitable death. Skunk would grow up and want to be out with his tribe leaving his mum lying paralyzed in a cage. This was not a life I would want for any creature. My entreaties to Dandy to try just that little bit harder became more desperate and at the end of the sessions when I lifted her back into the coop I was close to tears.

One morning at the beginning of week four Dandy took a step. I had my hand underneath her for support and had moved one leg forward as usual. When I removed my hand Dandy lurched forward bringing the trailing foot level with the leading, her wing shooting out almost as if in surprise. Dandy crashed to the ground, but as she lay there she looked me straight in the eye and I saw a spark of triumph. Dandy and I found new hope in that moment.

It was slow and frustrating. The wing shooting out now became what unbalanced her as she tried to move the leading leg forward again. Eventually I found a position where I could prevent the wing coming out without supporting her and without pushing her over. It took another three days before the leading foot took a further step. Each time Dandy would crash to the ground, each time I would get her up and we would try again. One unsteady step became two, then three then the distance from my ankle until her head would crash into my lap and I became concerned for her neck. From then on I knelt in front of Dandy and shuffled backwards as she took unsteady but determined steps towards me. Now I could catch her before she fell and she would sit for a while exhausted as I stroked her and fed her pieces of walnut. Skunk had feathers now and hurtled around the pair of us cheeping loudly, suddenly diving off behind the coop and out of Dandy’s sight. The need to keep Skunk in sight seemed to drive Dandy to greater efforts and before many more days passed by Dandy could walk around the coop and sit resting with Skunk in sight.

For the next two weeks I became Dandy’s minder. While she could walk a reasonable distance she certainly wasn’t able to run for cover, or defend herself and Skunk from predators, or fight other hens that came to close. The final goal for Dandy, Skunk and me was to be when she returned to her tribes home with Skunk and took her place on the high perch, preferable with Skunk beside her; a one hundred metre uphill journey, mostly over open ground, with a one and a half metre jump/scramble at the end.

The first few days were spent around the vegetable garden. Skunk found one of the many holes in the fence and spent much of the day digging for food while Dandy sat under a plant, or bush watching and slowly regaining her strength.

Next came the dangerous stretch from the vegetable garden, up the old driveway beside the rockery. This is a favorite attack path for the hawks. They come up the old driveway from the donkey field, low to the ground, at full speed. It takes the hawk less than three seconds to go from invisible to in your face. For a chicken to reach the safety of the rockery shrubs they must stop and jump; that’s all the time the hawk needs. If the chicken heads to the other side of the drive they have rocks as obstacles and a weed strewn slope to negotiate before they can reach substantial cover. It’s not until a chicken is alongside the bamboo clump that their survival chances improve; make the clump and they will probably survive.

I was walking behind Dandy and Skunk on the day they reached the end of the rockery and had the drive and parking area in front of them. Oswald, Fat Bird, Ruffles and Where were making their way down the track towards the car port. For some unknown reason I expected these members of Dandy’s tribe to greet her or at least see Oswald do the I’m your man shuffle. Everyone just stopped and looked at each other slightly nervously it seemed and after a few seconds Oswald and the rest of the tribe went on their way. I just felt sorry for Skunk at that moment. All the trauma, all that effort, and not even a hello from her tribe.

Finally the day came when Dandy felt fit enough to make the final leg of the journey home. I followed Dandy and Skunk across the sheep field to the garden shed that was Tribe 1’s home that evening. The rest of Tribe 1 had already settled on their perch for the night and I watched feeling very apprehensive as Dandy and Skunk went through the hatch beside the main door and into the shed. After a second or two I heard the familiar flapping of wings and the thump as Dandy reached the perch, a second later I heard Skunk do the same. When I opened the door Dandy and Skunk were side by side on the high perch opposite the rest of the tribe.

That evening looking at Dandy and Skunk on the high perch back with their tribe has so fa,r and probably always wil,l represent the best of my memories of my life at Can P.

Dandy settled back in to the tribe’s routine as if nothing had happened. She never laid another egg. Skunk developed the Maran black plumage with the gold edging on her collar feathers. Mini Minx’s (Skunks Grandmother) bantam genes meant Skunk didn’t grow to be as big as a pure Maran hen but the rest of the tribe accepted her without any problems. For a couple of months life seemed good again for both Skunk and Dandy and then one day Dandy disappeared. I saw the entire tribe come down the track from the sheep field and cross into the bamboo clump as I worked on some project in the car port.

I had sat down for a cigarette when Skunk rushed up to me chirping excitedly and jumped on to my lap. It wasn’t until a while later when I realized Dandy was missing that I understood Skunk had been trying to tell me Mum had been taken by a predator. I didn’t hear any alarm calls or find any signs of a struggle, or her body; she just vanished.

Skunk’s behavior changed from that day. Instead of following the Oswald and the rest of the hens I often found find her on her own, or with Major. In the evenings when the tribe retuned to the shed Skunk would loiter outside until everyone had taken up their positions on the perches then quietly slip in and perch next to Major if she could squeeze between the other hens.

A few weeks after Dandy’s disappearance Major became very ill, the most likely cause being a failing heart. In the last few days of Major’s life he had become so disorientated and so debilitated by the disease that he was unable to defend, or feed himself and unable to make the jump to the perch in Tribe 1’s home. For his last few nights Major slept in the hospital coop which then was situated next to the vegetable garden, over one hundred metres away from Tribe 1’s home.

On Major’s first night in the hospital coop I carried him to the coop, made him as comfortable as possible and shut the door and went up to the sheep field to close up Tribe 1 for the night. When I checked Tribe 1 to make sure everyone was in, Skunk was missing. I spent a few minutes searching for Skunk in the area around Tribe 1’s home, then given it was getting dark, I thought she may have gone to the triangle coop she grew up in.

When I got back to the vegetable garden I found Skunk standing outside the door of the hospital coop and realised that Skunk knew Major was in the Hospital coop and wanted to be in there with him. Considering it was almost dark now this was an incredible show of determination by Skunk; chickens do not like being on the ground in the dark and alone on the ground in the dark over 100 metres from home almost unthinkable.

With some misgivings I opened the top of the hospital coop, picked Skunk up and lowered her in next to Major. The hospital coop is small and Major was a large Maran male, there wasn’t a lot of room. Skunk wiggled underneath Major making quiet chirruping sounds and Major responded with nesting coo, coo sounds. I closed the coop and stood in the dark listening to the pair of them for a few minutes. After some rustling sounds the coop went quiet and I quietly lifted the top of the coop to see inside. Skunk was lying under Major’s neck with his head resting on her back. Major’s eyes didn’t open but Skunk looked straight at me, gave another quiet chirrup and I closed the lid.

For the last three nights of Major’s life Skunk would come to the hospital coop at dusk to spend the night with Major. Finally it was decided that it would be kinder to kill Major than keep him alive, virtually helpless, any longer.

Skunk didn’t come to the hospital coop that night

Skunk spent more and more time on her own during the day after Major’s death. I would often find her on top of the waste hay pile sheltering below a rosemary bush that grew out of the bank above. In the evenings when Tribe 1 went to their perches, Skunk would stay out until I arrived and ushered her in.

Not many weeks later I went up to the sheep field past the waste hay pile to close up for the night and found Skunk lying in a pile of feathers and blood at the base of the bank the waste hay pile sits on.

I buried Skunk alongside Major and with all the other dead from Tribe 1 in a patch of ground where the old garden shed that was Tribe 1’s home used to be

I just read this one again and got choked up. Wonderful writing and fabulous understanding of the chickens’ body language.

 

[Shadrach]

I'm going to post a couple of the book versions of other stories that are dotted around the site here. I would like to have them all in one place for ease of reference. Keeping track of them is becoming difficult.
This isn't a story yet but this picture belongs here.
This was Dink. The most extraordinary hen I've known who got killed recently. I bury all the males and females that get killed by non human predation like this.

 

[No More Empty Nest]

Aww, poor Dink! So sorry to hear.

 

[Fields Mountain Farm]

I'm going to post a couple of the book versions of other stories that are dotted around the site here. I would like to have them all in one place for ease of reference. Keeping track of them is becoming difficult.
This isn't a story yet but this picture belongs here.
This was Dink. The most extraordinary hen I've known who got killed recently. I bury all the males and females that get killed by non human predation like this.
View attachment 1675336

Im so sorry for your loss Shad!
Dink was a lucky girl!

 

[Meg-in-MT]

Golly, @Shadrach. Wonderful stories. Dandy, Skunk and Major about saw me in tears. Heh ...Thank you for sharing your talent! I'm glad I happened upon this.

 

[mixedUPturk]

I just read this whole thread in one sitting couldnt tear myself away! Id pay the extra for an autographed copy ! still for poor Dink and remember what the magnoila signifys

Side bar i would Love a chart depicting the lines and im sure others would too!

 

[Shadrach]

Golly, @Shadrach. Wonderful stories. Dandy, Skunk and Major about saw me in tears. Heh ...Thank you for sharing your talent! I'm glad I happened upon this.

Thanks for reading them.

 

[Shadrach]

I just read this whole thread in one sitting couldnt tear myself away! Id pay the extra for an autographed copy ! still for poor Dink and remember what the magnoila signifys

Side bar i would Love a chart depicting the lines and im sure others would too!

I'm pleased you liked them. The book is most likely to be published on the net rather than in hard copy.