Sometimes, I snooker myself into believing that I call the shots out at the coop.
It’s just another delusion.
When I let the hens out the other morning, our Plymouth Rock and one of the two Rhode Island Reds raced into the pen. The other Red stayed behind in the coop’s nest box, where “the girls" lay their eggs.
It’s just another delusion.
When I let the hens out the other morning, our Plymouth Rock and one of the two Rhode Island Reds raced into the pen. The other Red stayed behind in the coop’s nest box, where “the girls" lay their eggs.
I clean out the coop first thing in the morning, right after I feed and water the hens, and I didn’t feel like waiting until later to de-poop the coop just because one of the hens refused to budge. So even though the coop wasn’t quite empty, I propped open the hinged roof and began scooping out the overnight deposits, which I dropped into a bucket on the ground right outside the coop.
The nesting hen (I can’t tell the Reds apart unless they’re together, so I don’t know if it was Nellie or Hope), watched me quietly and without moving a muscle as I went about my business. The coop is small — about four feet by four feet — so my right hand was reaching in and out, in and out, in and out, only inches from the Red.
I know better than to touch a chicken who’s laying — hens can be quite assertive and protective when on such a mission — so I didn’t pet the Red. But while I thought I was keeping my distance, she finally decided I was too close for her liking.
Without rising from the nest box, the Red lunged forward with her neck. She did this so suddenly that I didn’t realize what was happening until she had pecked my right hand between two knuckles. Hard. I mean, really hard. Chickens have no teeth, but a beak is a firm and pointy contraption. It's all the more dangerous when it's been placed in motion by an angry hen who knows how to use it. The attack tore through the disposable glove I was wearing and left a nasty bruise.
The Red settled right down after that lone peck, but I got the message. I dropped the roof into place and left her alone. Moments later, she emerged into the pen, having left behind a still-warm egg. And a rather painful reminder as well: Even feathered workers have rights, including a right to privacy.
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