Keeping chickens encourages self-reliance, at least to a degree. My wife Liz and I have learned how to deal with various problems since we got started in 2012, including bloody accidents. But we reached another milestone today when Hope, one of our two Rhode Island Reds, needed to have her beak trimmed.
One of the many things about which I was blissfully ignorant when we first acquired hens is that, sometimes, part of a chicken’s beak will start growing, and continue to do so until it gets so long that it threatens the bird’s ability to peck and eat. Some time ago, the upper portion of Hope’s beak began to get longer. At first, it struck me as a harmless oddity. But over time, it got longer and longer, eventually reaching a point at which it began to curve downward. A bit of research revealed that this is not all that unusual. Intervention was recommended, while Hope was still able to eat normally.
We could have tried trimming the beak with a nail file, but Hope’s condition seemed to call for something more. Digging out the clippers that we occasionally use to trim the hens’ nails, Liz and I headed out to the coop first thing this morning to set things right. I’d watched an online video of what looked like a stressed and agitated chicken getting a beak trim, so I feared the worst. But we couldn’t see making a 17-mile drive to the vet’s office for what the experts describe as a simple procedure. The key is not to cut far enough into the beak to cause injury, pain and bleeding.
I removed Hope from the coop and held her securely. Liz took hold of Hope’s head to keep it stable, raised the clippers to Hope’s beak, took aim, and snipped the tip. Much to my surprise, Hope did not flinch or squirm or squawk or show any distress. In fact, she didn't even close her eyes. She sat quietly in my arms before and during the procedure. As soon as I put her back in the coop, she ran out into the pen and dug into her breakfast.
Liz and I both came away with the impression that Hope seemed to appreciate the trim, as if she somehow understood it was being done for her benefit. But that can’t be true. Comprehension and gratitude from a hen? Impossible! After all, as dismissive people like to say about poultry, “they’re only chickens.”
One of the many things about which I was blissfully ignorant when we first acquired hens is that, sometimes, part of a chicken’s beak will start growing, and continue to do so until it gets so long that it threatens the bird’s ability to peck and eat. Some time ago, the upper portion of Hope’s beak began to get longer. At first, it struck me as a harmless oddity. But over time, it got longer and longer, eventually reaching a point at which it began to curve downward. A bit of research revealed that this is not all that unusual. Intervention was recommended, while Hope was still able to eat normally.
We could have tried trimming the beak with a nail file, but Hope’s condition seemed to call for something more. Digging out the clippers that we occasionally use to trim the hens’ nails, Liz and I headed out to the coop first thing this morning to set things right. I’d watched an online video of what looked like a stressed and agitated chicken getting a beak trim, so I feared the worst. But we couldn’t see making a 17-mile drive to the vet’s office for what the experts describe as a simple procedure. The key is not to cut far enough into the beak to cause injury, pain and bleeding.
I removed Hope from the coop and held her securely. Liz took hold of Hope’s head to keep it stable, raised the clippers to Hope’s beak, took aim, and snipped the tip. Much to my surprise, Hope did not flinch or squirm or squawk or show any distress. In fact, she didn't even close her eyes. She sat quietly in my arms before and during the procedure. As soon as I put her back in the coop, she ran out into the pen and dug into her breakfast.
Liz and I both came away with the impression that Hope seemed to appreciate the trim, as if she somehow understood it was being done for her benefit. But that can’t be true. Comprehension and gratitude from a hen? Impossible! After all, as dismissive people like to say about poultry, “they’re only chickens.”
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