When I was a little girl, my dad brought home a cage of quail chicks. I am not sure why he did, but I placed them on my toy shelf and cared for them. There was one that was small and got trampled by the others. I tried to make sure he got enough food and water so he could grow, but one day I checked in on them and he was dead. I was so sad and cried as I buried him in our yard. I felt like I had failed him, that I should have done more. Today I had those same feelings.

Yesterday, I found Pee-Wee on the floor of the coop sleeping.  I thought maybe she had been picked on by the girls so much, she was just trying to stay safe and rest. I picked her up and put her on top of the coop in the shade for a few hours. Later, I moved her into the feed shed. She still didn’t want to do anything but sleep. I gave her some feed, but she couldn’t seem to find the food, pecking at the table. Even the rattle of the can didn’t perk her up. I took her home last night and made some hot oatmeal and she ate a bit. This morning there was no change. I made her drink and eat, but she still wouldn’t stand on her own and now she wouldn’t open her eyes.

I was torn between hoping she would snap out of it and ending her suffering. We had finished up butchering and I went to check in on her and she started flapping around. Before I could open the cage, she stood up tall, gasped, and fell over. I burst into tears as Fred tried to console me.

I have no idea what was wrong. Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? A disease? But I think Fred’s explanation may be right…her tiny body just wasn’t made to live so long. Pee-Wee was one of the meat birds we saved. They are bred to grow and be butchered, not live a long life. If the hens don’t make weight by the last butchering, we keep them as layers. Pee-Wee was well below butchering weight, like a third of the weight of the others. I am not sure if it was because of her stunted growth, but she also wasn’t quite right in the head.

She had a thing about eating…she wanted to eat out the bucket or can, not the ground or feeder. Not sure if that is why she never really grew. I heard of chickens having twisted beaks and a hard time eating, so I checked her out. No twist. So when it was time to eat, I would let her eat out of the can. When she was with the layers, I couldn’t put the can by the ground without everyone else trying to eat, so Pee-Wee started to jump on my lap to eat. Then she started to climb up my leg as soon as she saw the can. Our routine was for the other girls to get fed, then I would slap my knee, she would fly up to my bent knee, and I would put my arm under her for her to roost on while she ate. If I couldn’t do this with her, she would just walk around the food confused as to what to do. She would peck a bit, but not like the others.

She was a sweet chicken; always wanting to be with me. When they were out roaming the farm, she’d be in my business, under foot, trying to get some love. When they moved into the chicken oasis, she would squeeze under the gate to come sit with me.  It’s like she didn’t know she was a chicken. And when she got mad at me, she would let me know. Many a time did she walk right up to me, hop on my lap, peck me hard, jump off, and walk away. I would make it up to her with a little extra wheat at the end of the day and she would sit on my lap and snuggle. Her fellow meat birds didn’t pick on her, quite the opposite. The above picture was typical of how she would spend her days…surrounded by 3 birds. Never once did I see them pick on her, it was like they knew she was different.

The hard thing with chickens is that when they are sick, by the time they show signs, it’s usually too late.  I know she had a good life, but the feeling that I failed her is still there.  I guess it’s a good thing it hurts my heart so much.  It confirms that I haven’t lost compassion for my animals. I think if the day comes that I am not saddened by the death of my animals (either accident or planned), that will be the day I will no longer keep them.   For all the special treats and treatment Pee-Wee had in her life, and there were A LOT, she gave me a great year of companionship. Thank you, my sweet Pee-Wee.

As I sat watching Neckless fuss over her eggs, it was easy to let everything else leave my mind and focus on the beauty of what I was witness to. Most breeds have had the broodiness bred out of them. None of our Leghorns or Rhode Island Reds have shown the least bit of broodiness, but here was a Freedom Ranger, digging down deep into her DNA to do what she was meant to do.

A broody hen is something I have wanted for some time now. But for some reason, when I saw she was broody, all I could think of was how to break the habit. Then Fred reminded me that I WANTED a broody hen. So off I went to create the perfect broody box for her. After a bit of reading and asking around, I decided to get her out of the nest box and into a space she could be undisturbed. I found a cardboard box that would hold the nest and another I would put the first in for some extra privacy. I set Neckless up in a corner of our brooder house with her own hospital tray of feed and water. She is expecting after all!

And there she sat. Every other day, I would make sure she got off the nest, stretched her legs, and ate and drank. On hot days, I would leave her to have some extra time off the nest, but would check in to make sure she did get back on. What I had read most was to make sure they eat and drink, as they will stay on the nest neglecting their needs. Since they won’t get off, even to poop, I would check to make sure she pooped when off the nest. And after holding in a day of feed, she would expel some huge rank poops that were immediately toss out the brooder for fear of succumbing to the smell.

Neckless was a good broody. Left alone, she would get back on the nest. I loved watching her arrange the eggs under her. I loved watching her walk around and start to come out of her trance, shaking her head, ruffling and preening her feathers. After 20 days of her sitting and me fussing, it was time.

While I did chores for the other 100 chicks in the brooder house, I heard Neckless clucking and cooing. It was different than her regular “stop making noise and annoying me” cluck she usually gave me. So I HAD to find out if anyone had hatched. I tried to lure her out with food, but she wouldn’t come. So I carefully lifted her up and saw a little chick that must have just hatched since it was trying to stand. I didn’t want to upset anything, so I placed her gently back down and she started her cooing again.

As of right now, I have seen over 500 day old chicks. But this…this was breathtaking and amazing. I couldn’t help but run out to find Fred and tell him the news. And truth be told, I was a bit teary eyed. Neckless sat for 20 days warming and turning these eggs, clucking to them, and knowing just when to stop fussing over them and let them hatch. With one hatched, she knew just how long to keep sitting for the others to hatch. And when they went past their time, she stopped sitting. Out of 7 eggs, 1 broke early on, 4 hatched, and 2 duds. The day after the first hatch, 3 others joined the family. The first chick hung out under Neckless’ wing while the others hatched down below. Then everyone snuggled down under momma for the day. On day 3, they were ready to get out and explore!

I cut the nest box open so the chicks could get in and out easily and added a ramp. With momma watching over, the little ones started to explore. Soon, Neckless was making all kinds of sounds I had never heard. There was the call to come back to her. The call that there was food. The call to pay attention. Neckless would scratch and peck and drink, and the chicks would do the same. I ground up some wheat and sprinkled it about for them to find. When I first did this, I could have sworn Neckless gave me a look like “Why are you spoiling them?! They have to work for their food!”

It is interesting to watch Neckless teach the chicks all they are supposed to know and do. Like taking a dust bath, which plants to eat, and how to scratch around. And it is interesting to see the chicks different personalities. The all white one is the leader and most adventurous, and the lighter brown one is always getting left behind.

Only one of the White Leghorn eggs hatched. The others were from Rhode Island Reds or Freedom Rangers. It will be interesting to see how they mix with Ron Rico, the Silver Dorking. All chicks have the Dorkings extra toe, but I will have to wait to see who gets the Dorkings short leggedness.

I doubt any of the other girls will go broody. I do hope that Neckless does again. If she does, I am going to put a lot more eggs under her. I don’t think I could ever tire of watching something so incredible.