I'm doing something I don't normally do - copy and pasting from Facebook. I just don't really feel like typing it all over again, and it says pretty much everything I'd say anyway. Will I leave BYC? I doubt it, but after becoming a new chicken-non-owner I'm not sure I'm in a position to be taken seriously answering questions or dispensing advice, except maybe what's contained in here.
This post will be long - feel free to scroll on by.
Last night I lost my entire flock to a predator. The culprit had 2 legs, gray hair and was a tad bit overweight. Each chicken was plucked off the roost in the dark, one by one, and named by name as it was placed in a large wire cage. The cage was placed in the back of pickup truck and driven off by another two-legged co-predator to a new home.
It took weeks of soul searching to make the final decision to rehome my flock. My husband has taken a new position requiring us to travel frequently and often for days at a time. I have a favorite chicken-sitter, our chicken loving granddaughter, but they are moving from their home which was right across the street from us. Add to that some health issues which have kept me from caring for them as well as I had always been able to in the past and we had a recipe for soon-to-be neglected chickens. We couldn't let it get to that point. Hubby has been doing most of the flock work for sometime now, and he did a fantastic job, even through his shoulder surgery, but his plate was rapidly filling up.
We debated for sometime about what to do. Providence stepped in several days ago during a trip Hubby and a friend were taking to a meeting, when the friend mentioned to Ken that he'd like to add to his small flock. Our dilemma was explained to him, he took careful stock of his facilities and existing flock when he got back home, and called us with the news that he would be happy to add ours. Last night was the night.
This post has a lesson in it. For the sake of your flock, don't be afraid or ashamed to admit when you can no longer be the caregiver you started out to be. If you have to reach that decision, take your time.....acting in haste usually doesn't yield ideal results. We briefly thought about just culling the flock and putting them all in the freezer, but many of them were young, with good years of egg production still in them, and others were our "old ladies", birds who had taken the first step of this chicken journey with us - chickens like good old Agatha and friendly, sweet natured Tank, the Light Brahma. I'm so glad we didn't just go out and start processing, although we certainly would have if it came down to it.
Those goofy chickens gave us a lot of laughs, some sleepless nights, and taught our grandkids the joy and value of just being around them. They helped teach our littlest disabled granddaughter, Kendra (in her wheelchair since 9 months old, non verbal and autistic) what she COULD do instead of what her limits were. Her sister Katie, also autistic but mildly so, learned empathy and a sense of achievement from them. She's now 11, but from 8 years old on we were able to leave town for a week at a time, leaving her totally in charge, and never worry.
So I take from this a little regret, an amazing learning process, and the chance I had to share with others what I'd learned. Mama Heating Pad, raising chicks outdoors in the run, early integration, sub-zero temperature housing and how to build a safe, sturdy hoop run all came about because my flock gave me the confidence to push the boundaries of the conventional, and because I had some fantastic friends and mentors along the way. (Oh, and 1507 photos of chicks and chickens, lest I forget!) Yep, I'm sad today, but I'm also glad that we recognized that the time was rapidly approaching when these chickens, who had given us so much, were not going to able to receive their share in return.
I'm not looking for sympathy - I've had too much fun along the way. I just want to maybe teach one more thing before I go - stop and take stock on occasion. Don't let chicken math get the better of your common sense. Don't be afraid to say, "I can't do this anymore". Don't be ashamed to make hard choices. It's not always about fluffy chicks and first eggs. Reality bites!
This post will be long - feel free to scroll on by.
Last night I lost my entire flock to a predator. The culprit had 2 legs, gray hair and was a tad bit overweight. Each chicken was plucked off the roost in the dark, one by one, and named by name as it was placed in a large wire cage. The cage was placed in the back of pickup truck and driven off by another two-legged co-predator to a new home.
It took weeks of soul searching to make the final decision to rehome my flock. My husband has taken a new position requiring us to travel frequently and often for days at a time. I have a favorite chicken-sitter, our chicken loving granddaughter, but they are moving from their home which was right across the street from us. Add to that some health issues which have kept me from caring for them as well as I had always been able to in the past and we had a recipe for soon-to-be neglected chickens. We couldn't let it get to that point. Hubby has been doing most of the flock work for sometime now, and he did a fantastic job, even through his shoulder surgery, but his plate was rapidly filling up.
We debated for sometime about what to do. Providence stepped in several days ago during a trip Hubby and a friend were taking to a meeting, when the friend mentioned to Ken that he'd like to add to his small flock. Our dilemma was explained to him, he took careful stock of his facilities and existing flock when he got back home, and called us with the news that he would be happy to add ours. Last night was the night.
This post has a lesson in it. For the sake of your flock, don't be afraid or ashamed to admit when you can no longer be the caregiver you started out to be. If you have to reach that decision, take your time.....acting in haste usually doesn't yield ideal results. We briefly thought about just culling the flock and putting them all in the freezer, but many of them were young, with good years of egg production still in them, and others were our "old ladies", birds who had taken the first step of this chicken journey with us - chickens like good old Agatha and friendly, sweet natured Tank, the Light Brahma. I'm so glad we didn't just go out and start processing, although we certainly would have if it came down to it.
Those goofy chickens gave us a lot of laughs, some sleepless nights, and taught our grandkids the joy and value of just being around them. They helped teach our littlest disabled granddaughter, Kendra (in her wheelchair since 9 months old, non verbal and autistic) what she COULD do instead of what her limits were. Her sister Katie, also autistic but mildly so, learned empathy and a sense of achievement from them. She's now 11, but from 8 years old on we were able to leave town for a week at a time, leaving her totally in charge, and never worry.
So I take from this a little regret, an amazing learning process, and the chance I had to share with others what I'd learned. Mama Heating Pad, raising chicks outdoors in the run, early integration, sub-zero temperature housing and how to build a safe, sturdy hoop run all came about because my flock gave me the confidence to push the boundaries of the conventional, and because I had some fantastic friends and mentors along the way. (Oh, and 1507 photos of chicks and chickens, lest I forget!) Yep, I'm sad today, but I'm also glad that we recognized that the time was rapidly approaching when these chickens, who had given us so much, were not going to able to receive their share in return.
I'm not looking for sympathy - I've had too much fun along the way. I just want to maybe teach one more thing before I go - stop and take stock on occasion. Don't let chicken math get the better of your common sense. Don't be afraid to say, "I can't do this anymore". Don't be ashamed to make hard choices. It's not always about fluffy chicks and first eggs. Reality bites!
