Goodbye to our Sleepy-Eyed Rose (March 22, 2007 - January 21, 2011)

Losing June last November was difficult, but we certainly didn't expect that we'd be going through this again less than three months later. Our other little red hen, Rose passed away Friday morning. She would have been four years old in March. Rose died of the same infection that took her sister June. So-called "laying" hens are prone to uterine prolapse since they are bred for maximum egg production, but the vet told us these Fallopian tube infections are also pretty common among chickens, too. Last spring, Rose was showing symptoms, but antibiotic treatment was successful, so that she was strong and vital all summer and through the winter holidays. This time, though, the medicines that we gave her after bringing her and Sara inside our warm house weren't enough.

Rose was Sleepy-Eyed Rose sometimes because her right eye was often not quite open. Like all of our chickens, she quickly learned to recognize us and our voices and her own name, or names, I should say, because we called June "Moon in June," and Sara is sometimes Sara Sarasen (for no particular reason), but Rose had several names, responding to Rose-is-Rose, Rosalinda, and Rosie, as well as Sleepy-Eyed Rose, by cocking her head, chittering and twirping.

Rose's favorite treats, bar none, were bread and tomatoes; she would pick those out of a dozen other treats and race off to gobble them down. No piece of bread was too large for Rose, and two weeks before she died, she made her last little flight from the top of the ladder in the coop to get some bread that she saw in my hand. She also loved raspberries, sunflower seeds and kale. As the omega chicken, i.e., third in line out of three, Rose knew her place, and accepted it humbly. June was always her good buddy. Chickens maintain a social order in which every member of the flock has a place and finds a place. At night, Rose and June roosted together on a shelf up in the coop's heated bedroom, and Sara took the perch. These groupings were somewhat, but by no means, rigidly territorial, and they shared the yard the same way. The day's chosen dustbathing spot was first used by Sara, and then Rose and June would roll ecstatically together, sometimes on their backs, pecking at bugs in the dirt, and raking in particles of earth with their beaks. Having come from to us originally from a rather barren coop without hay, and with only a packed, bare dirt run to explore, it was maybe the first chance they had ever had to search for bugs and eat green plants. They would all bask in the sun, their eyes closed, and stretch out their legs, obviously relishing their freedom. Rose and June enjoyed being together, and they would sometimes preen each other.Rose was usually the first one to notice anything out of the ordinary in the yard, and was the first at the door of the coop to come outside, often jumping up several feet into the air and excitedly flapping her wings. Always shy, perhaps due to rough handling, perhaps just due to her own inherent personality, Rose was bolder with June at her side. I will never forget the sight of Rose and June running towards us through the muddy yard with boots of mud clinging to their feet so that they rocked from side to side and lifted their feet extra high.

Karen Davis of United Poultry Concerns writes, "If there is one trait above all that leaps to my mind in thinking about chickens when they are enjoying their lives and pursuing their own interests, it is cheerfulness. Chickens are cheerful birds, quite vocally so, and when they are dispirited and oppressed, their entire being expresses this state of affairs as well. The fact that chickens become lethargic in continuously barren environments, instead of proving that they are stupid or impassive by nature, shows how sensitive these birds are to their surroundings, deprivations and prospects. Likewise, when chickens are happy, their sense of wellbeing resonates unmistakably."

Rest in peace, Rose, cheerful, shy, sensitive girl. We love you, and will always miss you.

Bird Brain is a Compliment

After reading this on goveg.com's "Top 10 Reasons Not to Eat Chickens"...

"Several recent studies have shown that chickens are bright animals, able to solve complex problems, demonstrate self-control, and worry about the future. Chickens are smarter than cats or dogs and even do some things that have not yet been seen in mammals other than primates. Dr. Chris Evans, who studies animal behavior and communication at Macquarie University in Australia, says, “As a trick at conferences, I sometimes list these attributes, without mentioning chickens, and people think I’m talking about monkeys.” Dr. John Webster of Bristol University found that chickens are capable of understanding cause and effect and that when chickens learn something new, they pass on that knowledge (i.e., they have what scientists call “culture”). How does your IQ compare to that of a chicken?"

...I decided to try one of the experiments (from the page in the "How does your IQ compare..." link). After all, every time we ask Rose, June and Sarah who the president of the United States is, they answer correctly, with a prolonged "Barrrrrraaaack!" Actually, it's usually June who answers; she's the most vocal, or perhaps just the most political-minded. But I digress...

At any rate, I discovered that our chickens are indeed able to understand that objects still exist even after they are hidden or removed from view, a level of cognition that is actually beyond the capacity of small human children. Bringing the much-beloved tomatoes-and-brown rice treat out to the backyard, I showed Sarah and Rose the food---June was clucking quietly to herself up in the nest box, and thus unavailable---and let them have a little bit, and then hid it away behind a stump. They looked at me for a moment, and then proceeded to ignore me. Sarah started pecking around in the grass for bugs, and Rose began preening herself. But when I tried it a second time, they knew I still had the food! "Look, empty hands," I told them, and busied myself with other things. Nothing doing---weren't forgetting about those luscious bits of August juicy tomato-soaked rice. Of course, I rewarded them with the food. They definitely knew that food was still around.

(Here's a picture of Sarah looking very skeptical, as she often does.)

Here is something else the girls would no doubt like to eat, but can't, as it's up too high for them to reach: a monarch butterfly caterpillar...and the chrysalis that it (or one of its many siblings) formed, hanging on one of the swamp milkweed plants in the backyard.

Rose and June set up coop-keeping with Sara---and a Hawk Attack

Happy Ostara/Easter/Passover/whatever holiday you may celebrate! We're just relieved that Sara is still here to play her part in the Easter animal parade (figuratively speaking, of course). Yesterday, this red-tailed hawk attacked Sara, and although we're still not entirely sure why, it seems to have been scared off when we heard the terrible commotion, and came outside. (Either that, or Sara fought back?) The hawk didn't go far, though---just flew up to the top of what's left of our silver maple (maybe 14 feet high?), and didn't even flinch when Steve tossed sticks up in that direction to try to spook it. S/he still was eyeing up Rose and June, who had wisely taken refuge under a forsythia bush.


Sara lost quite a few feathers in the attack---the hawk seems to have been systematically plucking her right underwing---and she was pretty shaken up at first, but now she seems otherwise okay.


There's a nick in her skin from the plucking (it hurts to even think about it!) but she didn't bleed, thankfully, and her feathers will come in again. Lesson learned by the humaniamals. Even in the city, hawks are hungry. So the days of our chickens wandering freely around the backyard are over. Their coop is plenty big for the three of them, of course. Still, we hate the idea of keeping them in a cage, even if it is one that's roomy and moveable, as their "chicken tractor" will be. We need to keep them safe, but it does make you think about what it means to keep what is essentially a prey animal safe from predators in the outdoors...

Otherwise, Rose and June have been settling in nicely to their new living situation with Sara. Sara's still boss chicken, and Rose, who is smaller, doesn't get as much of whatever there is to get, but...she has a secret treat source that Sara and June don't know about! Steve cut back the wild grape vine, and showed it to her, so now she drinks the sap that drips from it, as you can see from the photo.
It's still pretty brown and bare here in south central Wisconsin; we're just south of the north woods, after all. It sure will be nice when more greenery emerges. Things have at least dried out a little, though, the chickens can enjoy dust baths, and they aren't wearing boots of mud. (Wish we had a photo of that to post, because they look really funny running towards you with their mud "clodhoppers"! Next time it rains, maybe...)



Crocuses are coming up, though...