We've encountered yet another of the pitfalls endemic
to raising poultry in vermin-infested Roswell, Georgia.
After the fox attack in late winter (we lost five of our Rhode Islands reds to one of the bastards. Contrary to tree-hugger mythology, foxes do not kill only what they can eat. In reality, they kill everything in sight, eat whichever parts suit them, and leave the rest of the dead and dying birds to rot), we took additional measures to secure the
coop. So far, so good. Since then, the fox hasn't been a problem. With only one
Rhode Island Red left,though, we had to rebuild our flock. We obtained another from my
cousin, while a kind-hearted neighbor gave us yet another Red, and a Plymouth
Rock. This left us with two vacancies to fill.
Although I didn't like the idea, we ended up getting two Leghorns, both from
the same brood, and neither full grown. I opposed the idea because I didn't
want to introduce yet another unfamiliar breed to the flock. The Plymouth Rock has
finally become accustomed to her neighbors, but the process took time. (And I
suppose the fact that she's now the size of a small turkey - which is to say that
she's the largest bird in the flock - didn't hurt, insofar as carving herself
a niche was concerned.)
Unlike the aggressive Rhode Island Red or the adaptable Plymouth Rock, the
Leghorn, I've since discovered, is a
comparatively fragile breed, and prone to skittishness. When we introduced the
newcomers to the flock in April, the bigger, older birds set upon them
unmercifully. This necessitated removing them from harm's way immediately, and
building a temporary coop on the spot. Once we'd settled the babies in their
new home, all went well until two weeks ago.
On the fourth, I received a phone call from my wife. Terribly upset, she
insisted that I come home immediately. Something , she told me, had happened to
one of the chickens.
It certainly had.
Upon arriving home, I discovered that one of the babies had suffered a terrible
injury to her left leg. I also discovered an unpleasant fact about
"chicken-kind": they attack
their own wounded. We rushed her to the garage, constructed alternative
quarters, and tried our best to nurse her back to health. A friend of ours
provided us with the necessary medications, but cautioned us that she had only
a 50-50 chance of surviving.
While the wounded bird convalesced, I took a closer look at the injury, and
examined the coop more closely.
All the work put into fox-proofing and coyote-proofing the henhouses -- only to have a rat, of all things, attack one of the
birds.
To make a long story short: the chick improved steadily over the last two
weeks. Her appetite returned, she took water again, was attempting to move
herself around, and seemed to enjoy being taken outside (under heavy guard, of
course) to peck for bugs.
Then, without warning, she died this afternoon.
So anyway, if by chance, you raise poultry in Roswell; it isn't enough to
protect your birds from cats, dogs, foxes, coyotes, and hawks. You must also
safeguard the younger ones against large, aggressive rats.
G'night and God bless.