We just, finally, culled a crippled Marans pullet that we probably should have done a month ago. She's always been slightly disabled, but it wasn't a huge problem (just a limp) until she matured enough to put on substantial body weight. As she's gotten heavier, her legs have been increasingly unable to support her. I kind of let it go, because she didn't appear to be in any pain, and she just kind of stuck to the area around the coop. I knew what needed doing, but was in denial. Then today, we saw her attacked three times in a row, by other pullets and also the rooster--fairly viciously. After the last attack, which we broke up, she was just lying in a heap...it was so sad. It was right then that I asked my husband to please put her down. But I am such a coward that I had to go into the house before he did it. I'm not sure why that is--I was present during the butchering of the roosters that we ate, but something about this poor crippled hen just got to me. It had to be done, but that doesn't mean I feel good about it.