Sunday, November 1, 2009

Arwen's Fall from Grace

Pretty Chickie Girl Jetta
Yesterday morning I was cleaning Cluckingham Palace. I'd let Arwen out of the pen and fed the girls some delicious leftovers and they were happy chickies, clucking about contentedly.

About 11, I finished up and came inside. I wasn't inside long when the rooster started crowing his head off and then I heard a strange little squeak I didn't recognize. I ran and before I reached the door, I saw Arwen playing ball with one of my Andalusians. I beat on the window and she dropped her, then I ran out, flipped Arwen on her belly, called her not nice names and drug her to the back porch. I could see Black Thermostat was looking around, I could see no bites or anything, so I ran and got a box and some straw and a towel and wrapped her up and waited for Handy Man to come home and assess the damage ( injuries are not my farming strong suit). While I was outside getting her warm, comfortable and out of harm's way, I noticed Jetta was no where to be seen. Handy Man pulled up and checked out the little mauled chickie and pronounced her terrified, but unhurt, and we started the hunt for Jetta. I held to hope that the chickie yard ruckus scared her into hiding, and she would wander out like she did last time when the sun went down- she did not. We even went out one more time late and looked in every hiding place we could think of. Of course, I was broken hearted and imagined all types of things that could've happened to her.

This morning, I went out to see if maybe, by some chance, she found her way home, but no Jetta.

All the caterwauling was just Davey and Yellow Chick Awesome laying an egg.

So, I went onto Kaye's still hoping and wondering.

I called Handy Man during the day and he said he was busy, and didn't act like he wanted to talk to me, which sort of surprised me. I guess he didn't want to tell me over the phone, so I didn't find out until I got home that he found Jetta across the drive ( no chickens crossing the road jokes at this time please). I guess Arwen pounced her first and she didn't survive it. No wounds on her either. I can't imagine why Black Thermostat didn't fly to safety when Arwen nailed Jetta.

I wasn't in the house long at all, so whatever she did to Jetta must've have happened quickly and at least I'm glad for that. Obviously, I'm glad she didn't mean to kill her to eat her. She's just an obnoxious puppy, who happens to be a giant, who wants to play. Though she'll get no more opportunity.

When we got her, and I was off for the summer, she was too big and the girl's too small for me to risk much time together. Whenever they were in the chicken tractor, she would also be out of the pen and she's with the girls often with us right there. Lately, in the evening, I've let a few of the girls out of the big pen to range, and I keep Arwen right with me and, of course, reward her for good behavior and she's fine. Between a full time job teaching, and part time commitments, that's about all the time I've been able to give with the training.
She tries to do the same thing with Bugg and Buttercup. My little gramerlings are not much interested in being rolled around long enough for me to try and correct the pooch. Can't say as I blame them.

I purchased Andalusians because they are good foragers and I wanted chickens that eat a lot of bugs. I didn't realize they don't grow quickly and are fair fliers. Arwen has been out numerous times when they've flown out of the fenced yard. Only once did she try to grab one and Handy Man grabbed her and that was that. So, that Arwen took down two in a few minutes came as quite a devastating surprise to me. That one couldn't get to safety doesn't make sense to me either. I guess she was terrified. When the rooster starts bellowing, they usually squat, then run. Obviously, both had flown out of the pen, but there were plenty of places to run for safety, number one being flying back into the pen.
I was thinking when I was cleaning the coop about how much I like this little slice of farm life. Between the girls being entertaining and providing eggs, I'm really very happy and content cleaning up after them. This dying is the part I hate. I know they're chickens, but when you've messed with them everyday since they were two days old, you get sort of attached. I sort wish I would've known before Handy Man buried her, as I would have saved her one solid black feather that instantly told me who she was from a distance. Well, well, well. Boo hoo!
Kaye was feeling pretty good today. She has had a cold and she still has a bad cough. I fixed them breakfast and supper and cleaned out the frig and helped out with the laundry. We read the paper. She still sometimes really struggles with speech. She is going to have some more therapy for that soon. I swing emotionally to and fro feeling so sorry for one then the other. Pete wants to let her control everything she can. They went to the cookie place and bought six very fancy halloween cookies. One each for Ol'Henry, Antebellie and Miss Linee, one for my mom. We could not figure out to save us who she wanted the other two for. Now, if it's me, I just say, "Oh, okay, that's what I'll do," then do whatever I think best and tell her it worked out wonderfully. Pete will not give up trying to figure out who or how or when or whatever. After going round and round for fifteen minutes today, she would've picked him up and tossed him out on his ear if she could have. Bless their hearts. We never did figure it out. So, if you were the person the cookie was intended for, so sorry.
Mom still doesn't have enough air to walk across the floor or finish a sentence. I feel so bad for her.
Consequently, I'm just feeling bad today, all the way around.
Rae-rae had a nice open house yesterday.


  1. I'm sorry to hear about Jetta, we haven't told the babies as we figured it should come from the farmer herself. I'm sure they'll be sad but hopefully a life lesson could come of this.

    *pouring one out for my homechicken*

  2. I'm sorry about Jetta, too. Hopefully Arwen will calm down a bit and learn that chickens aren't for playing with.

  3. Thank you. It was a sad loss for us. You wouldn't think with 21 chickens, you'd even notice, but I knew the minute I glanced in the pen that she was gone. Poor chickie girl.