Singing Hens

For the last twenty five years we have lived in the country where we have been able to raise a lot of our own useful products, eggs, fruit, and if we wanted, vegetables at times.

I, for one, have always had a bent for ecological balance. Chickens have truly helped bring about that balance. They bring into this mix of farm characters, a lot of personality. Yes, I do mean personality, for every living creature has its own character or personality. I find them as varied as I do the friends that inhabit our life or a regular basis.

The current pack of hard scrabble cluckers is unique. This group sings to me or to anyone around. They talk, gabble, mumble, squawk and cluck drawing out each sound with unmistakable punctuations. To me it sounds very much like they are singing, each on their own octave in a resessitive opera of their own choice. You can hear them as you approach the fenced in area and the music gets louder the nearer you get to the enclosure.

Over the years we have had a huge variety of two legged feather brained, clucking characters. They reside in an unused fiberglass greenhouse mostly hidden behind a creatively tall wooden fence. They really don’t cause any trouble and are always happy to see anyone that might come around to visit. Visiting children are fascinated by these feathered creatures and take all invitations to pay the chicken pen a visit.

One of the best aspects of having chickens is they are great ecological enthusiasts. It is always a wonder that they find so much energy to use for scratching about and looking for whatever it is they find to peck at. We have found them to be extremely good to recycle food scraps into other useful items, eggs and fertilizer being two of them.

It is amazing how fast a pile of kitchen scraps can be turned into basic dirt. We don’t often use our garbage disposal, if at all, but rather carry all the left over food stuffs and things that have gone bad in the refrigerator, out to the chicken pen for a chicken feeding frenzy. My wife worries that they will get sick on the spoiled and sometimes rotten things that go to the “garbage”. I tell her that chickens have a different digestive system then we do and they certainly do enjoy the meals we give them.

Their table scrap dinners are supplemented by good vegetable dinning of professional lay pellets provided by the feed store. From these they get all the vitamins and other essentials needed for good health. Since our chickens never get processed meat or other objectionable byproducts, our eggs are always welcome by those of friends and relatives that would like them. Personally, I don’t like eggs and never eat them unless well disguised in some creative way.

Of course to keep happy hens you must have a resident rooster. The rooster protects and watches over his flock. Roosters sometimes have an attitude problem and can come on quite strongly if they feel their territory is being impinged upon. We have had several varieties that just seemed to be more aggressive than necessary and in the end had to be removed from the premises. Now before you jump to any conclusions, these roosters found other homes where they could “strut their stuff.” Not only do I not like eggs but rooster meat is not anywhere found in my diet plan.

The last rooster was truly a beauty of the foul. His brightly colored feathers glistened in the sunlight. His striping and coloration set him apart from the other feathered creatures that have had an experience on the farm.

Not long ago I went to the chicken pen to deliver some scraps and check on the water supply, only to find silence to greet me. It was a very eerie feeling. Usually the chickens come running and are very interesting in their varied approach. My apprehension grew as I stood looking at the silent pen wondering where all my friends were. Nothing stirred. The area was vacant of life.

I looked about and found one dead chicken laying behind a small bush in the hen yard. As I searched the area I began to see signs of struggles. Feathers were scattered here and there with some whole hens lying about in lifeless heaps. We have seen weasels before in the area but have never experienced any such difficulties as a result. Coyotes have gotten geese, ducks and rabbits, but they haven’t been around for several years. The coyotes have been trapped and relocated. Coyotes cause extensive damage to plastic sprinkler systems in orchards using such irrigation systems above ground. The coyotes chew on the plastic parts, often causing mini gushers when the system is activated during night hours. One rancher said that the coyotes play in the sprinklers and enjoy biting the spray when it comes on.

Our chickens die of natural causes. I never kill a chicken; they all die of natural causes when they pass away. Old age I guess you might say. Several chickens had died over the last several weeks and I just thought it odd that these particular one would die. I was not left to figure out who or what the culprit was. Was it a coyote, fox, or local dog? An animal on the hunt will kill and eat. A dog will just kill for fun and leave the victim where it died. I was witnessing the latter variety.

I gathered up the hens I could find around the three and a half acres, and buried them. The rooster was the most difficult to see lying so still. He had proved such a companion and really a compassionate solace for the hen house. He was always clucking to the hens when he found some bit of food or tasty morsel. The hens flocked to him when he called. He had grown into his arena and filled it quite well. Now I would have to look for another leader as well as another flock of chickens. It will be a challenge to find another qualified leader to direct the activities of the hen house.

While grieving the loss of the flock of chickens, I came across one traumatized hen cowering under some construction material to the side of the hen house. Evidently she had escaped the rampage and was now bewildered as to what had happened and where she was to go from here.

I took time to repair the fence where I thought entry might have been accessed. I tightened the chicken wire and replanted posts to make the fence its full six feet height. Nothing like closing the barn door after the horse is gone.

The one chicken left has always had a tail that leans to the right. She now is easy to spot among all the rest of the chickens. She always looks as though a wind is blowing on her. She has survived and is finally doing quite well. She has taken over the ordering of the hen house and clucks to the other chickens much like a mother hen would do. She also will not hesitate pecking another hen if she feels they are in her way or eating something she particularly wants.

The hen house is now populated with six new hens that are starting to lay eggs. They have yet to learn where to put the eggs but they are laying. Sometimes I find eggs in the corner, beside the feed barrel or more often than not now, in the nesting boxes where they should be. I guess it is a matter of time before they all figure out the process. It will take time because there is no leader hen to direct traffic to the nesting boxes. The leader hen is only interested in directing the eating order. As of now I have to hunt for the eggs that need to be brought in.

One of the aspects of the current group of feathered frustration is their constant talking or, as I call it, singing. I have never heard such singing before. I have not had such a friendly flock before either. When I enter the “club house” I have to scoot my feet along to keep from stepping on fragile chicken toes. They see me coming and run to greet me. I picked up a hen to show a visitor and it sang the whole time I held her. She chirped, chortled and murmured, much to the delight of the onlooker.

The chicken yard is now never quite. No matter when I visit, there is always someone talking or just singing, in fact just about all of them will be singing at any one time, with the exception of when they are eating. They follow me around like puppies and are very eager to receive whatever I might throw out to them, be it corn or just scraps. I do imagine that this is an indication of a happy chicken. “A Singing Chicken Is a Happy Chicken” don’t you suppose?

Not only are the chickens happy but they provide us with eggs enough to give away besides those my wife uses in food preparation. We do benefit each other in several ways.

The hens have taught me a great lesson, that is: in whatever situation you find yourself sing and be happy, deliver the goods and don’t worry about tomorrow, it will take care of itself.