Biography of a Canadian Chicken

Finally, I have roped a family member into writing a guest post. My sister Michelle and her husband Glenn bought a 120-acre farm in Ontario in 2011, northeast of Toronto. They have not had the best luck with their chickens.

The Chicken

The Chicken came into our lives almost two years ago now. Looking back, I would be unable to pick her out in a lineup. She was one day old and arrived with nine siblings, all born the same day. They were all yellow and grey fluffballs, bigger than a golf ball but smaller than a baseball—about the size of an egg, now that I think of it. The kids were fascinated.

They quickly grew wings and the fluff turned into feathers. We had been assured they were all females. As the weeks and then months passed, the half of them with the best combs got wickedly sharp spurs on their back legs. Once they started to crow, and fight, they…er…ok, we ate them. Their sisters got along well though. They continued to roam the fields together, hunting for bugs.

Our dog, a sweet and lively Lab-Collie mix, watched the chickens but also (rarely) chased them. They didn’t like that and would hide under the cedars and spruces. We scolded Lassie when we caught her harassing them, and after a while she gave them a wide berth.

Their first winter was hard. By then they were laying gorgeous big eggs with beautiful firm bright yolks. Glenn hung a heater from the ceiling of their coop, where they were safe from the coyotes. Every morning he brought them water and grain, and tucked them in every night.

Chicken hole
The Chicken in a Chicken Hole

After six months of snow, spring came. The chickens were ecstatic. They were back to foraging for bugs. They dug Chicken Holes in the gravel at the edge of the driveway, where they would sit together after their dust baths.

Then one disappeared. We found a few bones weeks later, in a desolate rocky field near a small juniper bush. That left four chickens. They seemed unruffled (sic) and continued to roam the fields.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

Weeks later, I arrived home and my outraged husband Glenn told me that Lassie had eaten a chicken. There was an explosion of feathers in the driveway—and a missing bird. We scolded Lassie until she knew she was in trouble for something to do with the chickens. Soon after, another chicken disappeared. Even I could no longer defend Lassie.

A week or two later, I returned home from work late—close to dusk. Crows were hovering near the creek, making a huge racket. I looked to see what the fuss was all about and saw a lushly beautiful red fox coming toward me—well, strictly speaking, toward the two chickens behind me. With much difficulty, I shooed the fox off and ran inside to call Glenn. He couldn’t catch the fox. That night, The Chicken became the last of her kind.

The Chicken would not come out of her coop. Days went by. Glenn kept feeding her and would have to take her out of the coop, but she never strayed far. She grieved for a month, stopped laying eggs— she was just existing.

Then The Chicken found The Gardens. They were beautiful—patches of soft loamy fresh dirt with tasty seeds to scratch up and eat. I’m sure she thought she had entered Paradise. Only one sunflower seed survived. I was luckier with the peas—she only got about a quarter of those. She had a surprising taste for the little red onions. And the strawberries—!!

She does lay fabulous eggs though.

The Chicken has been scarred by the loss of her family. She doesn’t go as far from the house anymore. She likes to be around Lassie, which makes Lassie uneasy (see previous notes re scolding). She waits by the French doors in the morning till we give her a treat. But I think her ordeal has made her a stronger chicken. She’s a plucky one.

9 Replies to “Biography of a Canadian Chicken”

  1. Chickens like company, so she’s no doubt quite lonely.

    1. Yes, I think so. She was pretty depressed when she lost her family.

  2. Thanks for sharing the chook story :). Cant help agree with Becky: chickens are such social creatures and need at least one other to keep them company. I had a pair, then one passed away unexpectedly. The survivor seemed as sad as I was about the loss of the second. We let 2 weeks go by, then got another. The improvement in temperament of the first chook was amazing, and I was happier, too just watching them forage together. It didn’t take long for them to bond, and now they follow each other around like sheep :).

    1. That’s so sweet 🙂 I will tell my sister. I don’t know anything about chickens, such as when you can buy chicks. It’s winter up there now. They were thinking of moving The Chicken into the house for the winter. She’s kind of like a pet now. Thanks for the comment 🙂

  3. When we get down to one bird, we always go get at least one more. They need to have a friend. It is so sad when you loose them.

    1. Okay, I see a trend starting here…I’ll tell my sister.

      I keep talking about buying a farm, but there’s a lot of death involved (animals get sick, injured, killed or just die) and I get very attached to critters.

  4. Your sister has written an engaging guest post. Congrats to her, and to you on your blog, which I am enjoying.

    1. Thank you. I’ll tell her. Glad you’re enjoying the blog. Thanks for following 🙂

  5. What a great post! Getting one rooster could help protect The Chicken(s) from foxes etc, although then some of the eggs will become chicks! Training and rewarding a dog for being around and near the chickens can be a great step – foxes are afraid of dogs, and sometimes just the smell of a dog near the chicken coup and around the chickens can be enough, if the foxes aren’t incredibly hungry.

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