Ethel: R.I.P.

Ethel the chicken has ceased to be. 

Not totally sure about the birth and death dates. Pretty sure she's dead.

<irreverant, gross chicken story alert>

Ethel had, what we call in the business, a prolapsed vent.  That, sorry about this, is when they push their guts out their back exit, and they basically strangulate them… and… well, die.  She quite possibly had an egg stuck in there, but I didn’t feel it as I was jamming her junk all back up inside her. 

In point of fact, I haven’t a clue what did her in.  I seperated her (to avoid the others picking on her) and applied witch hazel in an effort to shrink down the hemmorhoid like protrusion.  I went out a few times to lube her up and reset her gear, but, alas, whatever the problem was, she just pushed it all back out.  After a couple of days, she just didn’t wake up.

Bummer.  She was my favorite.  On the other hand, and I know I’ll be banned from the Backyard Chicken Club for this, she was a chicken.  I eat a couple of them every month.  I hate to see anything suffer, and I was fully prepared to euthanize her when it was clear she wasn’t getting better, but she beat me to it. 

So, so long, Ethel.  You were a good chicken.  Maybe you’re in chicken heaven with last week’s broiler.  Tell her I said ‘hi’, and that she was delicious. 

<end irreverant and gross chicken story>

The good news is that the other three seem none the worse for wear.  Hard to tell with those dummies, though.  Oops.  Sorry.  I mean, my little snuggle bunnies.  Who’s a wittow chickeny wickeny?  Yes, you are!

So, I think, this spring, I’m going to expand the Urban Hayseed Flock with a few more of the little vestigial pterodactyls.  Four gave us just barely enough eggs in high times, and not nearly enough over the winter.  I’m thinking that the magic number is probably about six.

Oddly enough, I’m tempted to get more Ameraucanas because Shirley, as weird as she is, has been the best layer of the bunch.  Her eggs are most plentiful and the best in quality.  On the other hand, I’d like to get some of those girls that lay the really dark brown eggs.  It’s kind of nice to know which eggs came from which birds.  Someone laid several marble-sized eggs this winter, and we’re still not sure who it was.  It wasn’t Shirley, since they were brown. 

OK, there ya go.  Death on the farm.  I may have some more of that to report on when I open the hives up soon to see if they need sugar or not.  It’s pretty bleak on the outside, but I don’t want to open them up until it warms up a tad.

Likewise, it’s getting time to reset the mason bee houses… oh, that reminds me… tune in next time…