Cherry

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

Her name was Cherry. No, not very original, given that she was a Cherry Egger. In other words, a cross between a Rhode Island Red and a Buff Orpington, bred expressly for hardiness and egg production.

She was our best layer. She was our first layer, for that matter, producing the very first home-grown egg we got out of the first round of chickens that we brought home just over two years ago. By now, she was producing eggs of enormous size and quality, at a rate of almost one a day.

She left us, sometime between 7:00 and 7:30 this evening.

Around 6:00, as I was going to in to check something, I found her lying on the ground. Not at all unusual; they create divots in the dirt for dust baths every day. But she wasn't in a divot; she was lying flat on her stomach, not in brood position, and with head and tail drooping.

I picked her up; she was incredibly heavy-feeling, a dead weight. No motor control or apparent ability to stand. Panting, eyes closing. She reminded me of myself when I have a mono relapse.

Wings took her blinders out on the off-chance that they were bothering her. We checked her over thoroughly; no sign of mites, of Marek's, of any of the usual possibilities that afflict adult hens. It appeared much more like wry neck, although at just over two years of age, it would be unusual. There are, however, conditions that can affect adult hens that have similar symptoms: a form of congestive heart failure; abdominal fluid build-up; other conditions that can cause sudden paralysis. After comforting her a bit, we set her in the coop, and she seemed to perk up, eyes open again.

I ran an errand, back home by 7:00, and she was back, as well. Out of the coop under her own power, down on the ground in one of the mud pits, scratching and pecking happily. We went inside to eat dinner, and came out half an hour later to see about putting the little ones in for the night.

She was on her back in the mud, stone-cold and stiff.

Happy and eating one moment; gone the next.

If you have to go, I suppose it's as good a way as any.

Wings cleaned the mud off her feathers and put her in a protected place. We'll bury her tomorrow, over by the dogs and her little "sisters" who lost their own battles with wry neck two years ago.

I know it sounds silly to most people. But even our chickens are family.

We miss her already.




Copyright Ajijaakwe, 2014; all rights reserved.