My Hen Divorced the Rooster
Our previous flock of chickens was free range. I would open the chicken coop gate each morning so they could get out and roam our property. But our neighbors aren’t good at keeping their dogs up, and a family of foxes lives down the road. The flock got picked off one by one.
This time, we decided we would keep the chickens in the coop. My chicken coop is a converted shed that opens onto a yard surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence. They have plenty of room to scratch and peck. They have stuff to perch on. They get treats — it’s a good life. Best of all, unless a raccoon gets in, nothing is likely to eat them. (Raccoons are pure evil — they like to decapitate chickens).
We have ten hens and one rooster (Roo). The hens are a mix of Barred Rock, a breed that’s pretty outgoing and feisty, and Production Reds, a slightly smaller breed. We have one Rhode Island Red thrown into the mix. Her name is Dark Red Henny (I name all red hens Henny and all Barred Rocks Dottie — I can’t tell them apart most of the time, so they don’t get to be individuals. Does this cause them trauma? Probably.)
For a long time, Dark Red Henny was Roo’s favorite girl. She snuggled next to him at night and stayed near him during the day. The other hens picked on her because she was different — because that’s what chickens do. Birds of a feather really do flock together, as it turns out.
One day, Dark Red Henny flew the coop. The truth is, they could all get out if they wanted to. All they have to do is fly over the fence. But chickens don’t have the best problem-solving skills, and they don’t spend a lot of time looking up. The rest of them haven’t noticed that the fence doesn’t go all the way to the sky.
Once she flew the coop, there was no stopping her. I put her back that first day, but the next day she got out again. Eventually, I started waiting until evening to put her back. That way, she’d at least be safe at night — I didn’t want her roosting where predators could get her. I’d scoop her up when I put the others to bed (“putting the chickens to bed” means gathering the eggs and closing the shed door). I’d put her up on the shelf next to Roo so they could snuggle.
The next morning, she would fly out of the fence. She spent her days hanging around outside the fence, near her flock. Sometimes, though, she’d wander over to the goat pens. Eventually, she started spending more and more time with the goats. Goats have the best gossip, I’m pretty sure, and Dark Red Henny couldn’t get enough of it.
One night when I went to put the chickens to bed, I couldn’t find Dark Red Henny. I looked all over, shining my headlamp around the woods, convinced something had finally carried her off and eaten her. And then it occurred to me to check the goat barn — and there she was, up in the rafters.
It was a good, safe place for her. Our goats are strangely protective of the chickens. I once had a little Corgi-Lab mix who liked to chase chickens. He didn’t want to hurt them — he just wanted to play. When he was young, he could squeeze through the goats’ fence and get in their pens, which never worked out well for him. One day, he chased a chicken into the goats’ enclosure. The chicken ran into the barn, and a goat stood in the doorway, head down, daring the dog to just try to get that chicken. I had to rescue the dog.
The goat pens are the safest place Dark Red Henny could possibly be — probably safer than the coop. This is especially true when she hangs out with Jeb, my male goat. Jeb has a set of really impressive horns. He loves to fight. He would be absolutely delighted if a raccoon or possum got in his pen — he’d ram his head into it again and again. Sometimes my barn cat crosses through Jeb’s pen, and it terrifies me. Jeb is pure testosterone, smelly and mean.
Now, every night, Dark Red Henny goes into the goat barn around sunset. She perches on a rafter right above the female goats (which isn’t as safe as roosting with Jeb, but she gets to avoid his locker room talk this way). She’s just one of the girls. The goats don’t pick on her like the chickens did. She has found a new flock. During the day, she’s a free woman. She does what she wants to do. We have two acres, but she sticks close to the goats and chicken coop. Occasionally, she’ll hang out on my deck with the cat.
And Roo? He has been forgotten. I don’t think she even misses him. Besides, he has all those other hens. He doesn’t need her, not really. Does he miss her? It’s hard to tell.
