To quickly sum up: Friday evening, Landlady brought five Rhode Island Red pullets to the Fortress of Attitude. By Sunday morning one was dead, one missing and presumed dead, and the remaining three were so traumatized they decided en masse that certain death was preferable to one more minute in the Fortress.
Seriously. En Frickin’ Masse.
I’d have to be a copy writer for the Obama administration to ever want to suggest that a 40% mortality rate in 36 hours accompanied by repeated mass escapes is a sign of impending success.
I’ve always known – I’ve frequently commented – that the RIR hens have certain personality issues. I didn’t expect them to kill babies of their own kind. But as soon as I introduced the babies to the Two Ladies – in fact, after I introduced the first and before I’d arrived from the Jeep with the second – Littlest Hen, which is henceforth to be known as Selma* set upon the first baby so viciously it escaped from the fortress to get away from her. I collected the baby and put her back in with all the others. In minutes, three of the five had escaped and two were huddling terrified in the coop. Selma had gone completely mad.
When night fell I collected the one escaped pullet I could find and put her in the coop. This morning I found a second, slightly wounded in the head but apparently all right. Never found the third.
Two hours later the wounded one was dead. I don’t think it spontaneously caved in its own skull.
Sweartagod, it was like watching that part of my own childhood that involved the crazy stepmother. The three survivors couldn’t do anything right. I was outside doing laundry when all hell broke loose again. Before my very eyes, all three of the pullets found ways under the wire. As far as I could see, and I was looking right at her, one of them teleported through. I’d swear there was no hole big enough.
I was forced on the spot to two logistical conclusions: 1: I don’t possess enough chicken wire to keep these tiny things inside the chicken yard if they’re that determined to leave, and 2: Even if I succeed, Selma will kill them one by one.
So I gathered them up, put them in the cage recently vacated by Marlon the Delicious Meal, loaded the cage in the Jeep, and drove them to the Big Chickenhouse at Landlady’s place.
And as soon as I opened the cage, all the Brahma hens went “Aw! Look, Agnes, they’re so cute!” No, really – they were positively welcoming. I’ve had bad things to say about Brahmas as egg layers, but I’m starting to like them.
Current plan is to reimburse Landlady for pellets until they’re productive and I can move them back to the Fortress. Then I’ll probably eat Patty and Selma.
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*Yeah. From now on they’re Patty and Selma. Landlady’s a Simpsons fan.
“It’s like Days of our Lives meets Green Acres around here.”
I think you for got Saw and Halloween 27.
Poor little things. Poor stupid little things.
That would have been a better title, I do confess.
Yes, your new girls have a lot in common with the blond co-eds who go alone into the dark basement when the serial killer is on the loose.
OTOH, given that they’re fleeing into the dark basement because other serial killers are with them in the cabin, they almost have an excuse.
Sorry this is happening to them and you, Joel. I’m glad Landlady’s chickens have accepted them.
Now you know why I dislike Rhode Island Reds… rather intensely. They are not only stupid, but they are damned mean. I think we have discussed introducing new chickens to a flock, actually.
That’s not the way to do it, dear.
It’s not just RIR. I’ve kept chickens all my life and some chickens do not like the change in the social order they have and will attack anything that threatens that. Oddly enough it is not the dominant hen but the weakest that is the biggest problem. As though they fear losing their place inthe pecking order. Normally it can be resolved by separating them with temporary wire screens and nesting box until they get used to the sight of the new birds.
Okay, okay. Next time I drag the little coop to the Fortress. In hindsight that would have been a much better idea.