Enter the Chickens…

August 2018

How the chickens saved my life (part I)

This blog post is dedicated to Annie, my mentor, who first encouraged me to write about my chickens.

We had 5 ex-battery hens – we got them in September 2017 after a serious of seemingly random events led us to them. I’d fancied chickens for a few months by then – it probably started whilst I idly watched the ducks roaming free at a friend’s wedding at a posh country house hotel. I had wanted them more and more as time went on. Another friend at work had chickens and we used to chat about them, then one day, out of the blue, he asked if I wanted his coop as all his chooks had been polished off by a fox. I got all excited (not by his loss obviously) but hadn’t really committed in my mind, but when I went back to my desk minutes later there was an urgent appeal in my email for battery hen rehoming in a few weeks in our area. It felt like fate.

When I phoned Gary he’d just seen the latest KFC advert which was a cartoon of a glamorised chicken bouncing along having a great time as he danced to his death – he was so offended by it he was going to complain about it being hugely inappropriate. He wasn’t the only one, apparently it was widely considered disrespectful to chickens and distressing for vegetarians, vegans and children and got taken off the air (though I see they have a similar one just airing now). Thus softened and outraged by the plight of chickens in general, when I asked if we could get some he said yes. I don’t think he realised how serious I was, but before he could draw breath I’d hired a van and collected the coop. The level of excitement I felt can only be compared to how people talk about preparing for babies, I was over the moon. The area round the back of the house had always been waiting for something and it was an ideal area for them. I got it fenced and it all felt like it was meant to be.

I made them a wee shelter of bits and bobs lying around and it was such fun, as it didn’t need to be anything special because I trusted they wouldn’t judge me and I really enjoyed just creating stuff randomly. From the mere idea of having them they gave me so much pleasure. I read a lot about what to expect and I waited impatiently like a child going to Disney.

Enter Dora, Pink, Ella, Niala and Wambui and our lives changed forever. The lines of people in a garden centre car park, all there to adopt these pathetic, forlorn looking creatures was heartwarming. They were quiet in the car, and we placed them gently in the coop. Photos of them now look unrecognisable, but they weren’t as shabby as I had expected. Some of the rescues had been collected a couple of weeks previously, some the week before and some only days before. We didn’t know which ones we had but they had feathers, just looked a bit shabby, more so in the pissing rain. Ironically we had rescued them from a constantly warm environment and chucked them into a dreich Scottish drizzle! Looking back at what they were, compared to now is shocking though. They huddled warily in the coop whilst Twiggy the cat came to investigate.

Dora the Explorer was first out (or so we thought, we weren’t really sure, apart from one with a speckled neck – Niala, we probably couldn’t tell them apart). When Twiggy appeared at the door though, they all shot out, startled. Soon they started scratching around. We had been warned that they may not be able to walk or perch which makes me think these ones had been free-ranging for a couple of weeks and they seemed to be able to do everything. However they soon grew so much stronger that we realised how weak they had been. It was amazing how they just knew what to do, their peculiar 3 step moon-walk when they scratch, ferreting around – I was captivated by their joy and how their natural instincts just kicked in.

Gradually the chickens had the run of more and more of the garden and I picked up after them every day before Gary got home. It was just nicer having them around everywhere. They would literally gallop out of the coop to the “bird tree” and pick up bits. I had to move the bird feeders as they would hoover up debris all day, every speck that fell and thinking that couldn’t be good for them I ended up moving the feeders rather than fence it off. Whilst they aren’t affectionate they would peck gently at your legs, constantly, in retrospect I think it was Niala that started that. She loves pecking, blindly, mindlessly – a bit like cats when they pad up and down in a glaze. It’s very gentle – though you get the occasionally nip I’m sure it’s just curiosity. She loves a life-time shopping bag, but in time they all a start doing it – it’s so bizarre and funny to watch. Shiny leaves, plastic, stones…

Niala became Noisy Niala as she crows and calls constantly and gradually all their personalities began to come out. I’d got them coloured leg rings as they all looked the same to us at first (apart from Niala with her beautifully speckled neck). Pink was supposed to be Alish or Aisha but it never really stuck so she’s just stayed Pink. Wambui had the green tag, Noisy Niala was Orange. Red stayed Red until she was ill and because we spoke so much about her her name Ella finally stuck. Ella has always been the boss, she’s the smallest and feistiest, and always looked really shabby and tiny compared to the others. She started off ruling quite aggressively but as they all settled down it’s clear she was in charge but she doesn’t need to fling her tiny weight around anymore. Wambers grew lighter in colour and more distinctive, and she was always in the background – simply because she wasn’t ever a problem, but she and Niala hung out together, thick as thieves. Wambers was much calmer and measured than Niala who can be a bit frantic – and terrified of a bin bag although an orange Sainsbury’s shopping bag is like catnip to her.

One day, a few months later, Dora shut down. That’s the only way to describe it. I took her to the vet but no one could find anything wrong with her. I realise now that when we got soft eggs I had thought it was her and when she was off I had held her in a bath of Epsom salts, and she laid one eventually (and ate it) then seemed to perk up. However now she was just a husk of a chicken, first she would respond when you were around but just shut down when you went away, but eventually she just stopped moving around at all. After the first vet visit revealed nothing we started trying to feed her treats. Then her crop filled up and we thought it was sour crop and got it flushed but in retrospect it was just her body shutting down and I wish we’d had her put to sleep before putting her through that. I know now that you need to see an avian vet. Our vets were lovely and helpful but they just didn’t really know and I wish we’d just put her down then. I’d put her back in the coop at night but the next day Gary fished her out of the pen and put her in a box near the Aga as she was just standing in the rain, unmoving. She wouldn’t eat or drink and it was heart-breaking. When we spoke to the vet I asked if I could just leave her be to die, rather than trying to force feed her but the vet said they can hang on for a couple of weeks so we took her and had her put down immediately. I couldn’t bear for her to be manhandled in her last days on earth if she wasn’t going to survive. RIP gentle Dora, Jan 2018 – she was the most gentle of them, whilst she wouldn’t let you cuddle her, she wasn’t quite as quick and determined in dropping away from your hand and would tolerate you stroking her.

I knew someone was laying soft eggs, we had always assumed it Dora. But they continued, nearly every day. I notice Ella squatting a lot, not trying to lay or anything, just down on her haunches, but she would get up as soon as she saw you and always looked like she was investigating something, looking bright and busy so I wasn’t that worried. Then one morning I saw an egg shell hanging out of her bottom and knew that she had been laying them. I took her to the vet and he said there was nothing stuck in her but it would likely happen again and prescribed antibiotics. A dog sized pill (drugs companies don’t cater for the chicken pet) to be dissolved in water and put down their throat. He gave me an enormous syringe, and after Googling how to medicate a chicken endlessly on YouTube, I found a smaller syringe we’d used on Twiggy. You can only put a few ml in the chicken at a time and to squeeze it down their throat you have to slide the syringe down, avoiding the windpipe or you’ll drown them. If you think holding a cat still for medicating is hard, a chicken moves like a blur compared to a cat. Whilst they don’t have claws, they are so brittle and vulnerable it’s terrifying. The best advice I read online is that when you hold them (trapping their wings so they can’t flap) they will squawk like they’re being murdered but after a few seconds when they realise they aren’t dead, they’ll calm down! Dissolving a horse sized pill in a teaspoon of water just isn’t possible, so I had 2 full syringes and another to refill the small ones so poor Ella and I went through hell every morning and evening trying to get the drugs into her. I was sick with fear every single time I did it, although the day I did it the first time I felt so empowered I thought I could jump over the world. It still kept me awake at night and I’d be trembling with butterflies every morning, like getting up for an early flight, moving around in a daze with a tremor of nervous anticipation. Ella survived the intervention – even having to go to the vets for an injection for the last 2 days to finish the antibiotics as I was going away and couldn’t expect Gary to waltz in and take over without my help. Ella was so patient bless her but she’s never been as chummy since, always a bit wary. She seemed to recover but I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again and the soft eggs continued. I decided we couldn’t go through this again and I found an avian vet in Falkirk with a view to getting an implant to stop her laying. It took a couple of weeks to kick in but since then she’s filled out tremendously and her feathers have grown in glossier and fuller, and now she’s as big as the others.

One minute Pink was plotting to scale the fence, absolutely determined to get at the bird seed, and she’d escaped twice, the next she was quiet and blown up – all fluffed up with her eyes shut. She had always been the greediest, the most enthusiastic feeder, full, fat fluffy bottomed with a dark glossy coat. My heart sank – forums are full of the sick chicken look but it was all too familiar. However Wambers had been off for a couple of days a few months previously and then recovered without intervention so rather than assume it would all end in death I fed Pink treats and watched her carefully. She still engaged, but spent more and more time just standing, fluffed up, unmoving. She was disinterested in food and gradually lost condition. Suddenly Gary witnessed a violent attack between Niala and Pink, and then Wambers attacked Niala and they had a full on fight. We’d seen a bit of bickering but nothing concrete, but in retrospect I had found her off on her own a few times, hiding in bushes and behind the hurdles – she’d even laid an egg there. Fortunately, maybe because they’ve be de-beaked, no blood was drawn but he was really shocked and it became obvious that poor Pink was being bullied by all of them, with Niala as ring leader. Eventually I took her back to the avian vet having decided if it wasn’t something obvious we’d have her put down. I took Gary so I wouldn’t make an emotional decision, but vets as always are so practical and calm we saw no reason not to try the treatment. He told us some stuff that it could have been – nothing obvious again, but I didn’t catch it, he didn’t seem to identify anything specifically but noticed her stools were full of undigested corn. He told us to separate her so we could monitor what she was eating and pooping, I had been avoiding isolating her I case the bullying got worse but he said she needed time on her own and if she was bottom of the pecking order it wouldn’t matter. Thus followed a week of medication and to my disgust, being covered in fleas. I’m still not sure what they were, think Richard (the vet) said they were mites but they didn’t really look like any of the pictures on Google images. Like a pale grey/brown flea, only smaller. The vet said that happened when they were under the weather, nothing to worry about but that’s all very well when they aren’t crawling in your hair. They didn’t seem to bite but the vom factor when you think something is crawling in your hair is not to be sniffed at.

After a week then began the re-integration. We put Red in with Pink and kept Niala and Wambers separate. That went fine, so I put Wambers in with them the next day, leaving Niala. They were fine, no obvious scuffles, but Niala was dejected and confused and it was heart-breaking. I can’t describe how difficult I found it all. I was desperately trying to protect Pink and was upset at Niala as being the obvious bully, but she’s just a big, boisterous baby, like a clumsy, less popular child who longs to be in the limelight and tries to be funny by pushing people around. Her behaviour had become more frantic and manic the last few weeks, being really bolshy with all of them and I felt that even Ella was avoiding her, but seeing her alone calling constantly, broke my heart. I put Niala back with them but it became obvious she was still picking on Pink. Although they seemed to be managing, I couldn’t know what was happening when I wasn’t watching and I realised we needed a permanent solution. I kept finding poor Pink on the roof of the coop, the wood store and on the gate and I knew she wouldn’t be safe – if she could get out she would be away from food and water and it wasn’t fair for her to be on the run constantly.

Endless Googling told me there was only one thing I could do and I decided to separate Niala for a couple of days, however hard I found it. It was shocking and frightening even to me at how upset this made me, a deep, buried anxiety rumbling away in my stomach, solar plexus – like when you’ve had horrible news, death or a breakup and it sits deep inside you radiating a heavy sad knowing of grief. I know it’s ridiculous and I’ve since learned that it’s because I’m so (animal) sensitive, but knowing that it’s totally disproportional to the anxiety the situation warrants, doesn’t make it go away. I felt so helpless, logically I knew I was doing everything I could, but I couldn’t shake the sheer desperation, the deep all-encompassing sorrow I felt tinging my whole life. The closest I can describe is when my beloved Twiggy went missing and I was sure she was dead, but the not knowing was an all-consuming grief, a feeling that I could never be happy again but there was nothing I could do about it. But aware that this was my own private drama, I hardened myself, a few days of misery for Niala vs a lifetime of bullying for Pink was what I held my mind.

Then I saw a YouTube clip of a lady who had used the Emotion Code on her chickens. It’s a form of energy healing. Like a woman possessed I found out more about it and started it immediately. I felt like a fraud at first, couldn’t get the hang of it, but funny how necessity forces an issue. Days later and I’m really confident with self-testing. I can connect to the chickens immediately, I go through them each in turn. I don’t even need to be with them, I can do it in the house, but I like to sit outside close to them. I did lots with Niala, imprisoned in chicken jail as a bully-bird for three days I sat with her, whilst she pecked gently at my legs. She stayed really close, either oblivious or enjoying it, who knows. I released about 3-5 emotions in Niala nearly every day, occasionally inherited emotions, but mostly hers, and if I’m guided to ask more (mostly I’m not which is just as well as there are only so many questions to ask about a chicken emotion!) it’s usually in the first year of her life. They are all emotions like sorrow, fear, anxiety – there’s no anger or bitterness or hatred or resentment, it’s all abandonment and betrayal, all consistent with the horrible life they must’ve had as battery hens. Ella has had less, but she usually throws up one or two every couple of days. Wambers probably only one or two, Pink has probably had about four since I started. The first time I did it on Ella she was dust bathing, and she just seemed to go into a little daze. There may be no connection at all, and they don’t seem to notice. I’m not touching them when I do it, but they are happy to stay close whilst I do my voodoo on them (they aren’t cuddly chooks, but they usually follow me around. Ella less so since she’s had the benefit of medication so doesn’t trust me singling her out, and Pink is also less chummy after her week of medicating).

Today, after probably a couple of weeks of doing this most days, sometimes twice a day, I’m still releasing emotions from Niala and Ella. Today Niala had three, abandonment, forlorn and anxiety, Ella had betrayal and dread. I always ask to proxy for them and it’s always a yes, and the connection is immediate and strong when I connect to each one after the other.

I’m happy to say that already my girls are all getting along. At first Pink was still terrified of Niala, pinking and peeping and running away as soon as Niala approached, but it soon became clear that Niala wasn’t provoking her, it was just residual fear.

Yesterday they ate together at the feeder and I cried.

(My three fat ladies now, top image is Pink when we first got her. From left to right, Ella, Niala, Pink).