Poor Lucy

Last Friday evening Dennis arrived home weary from two days of travel. We had a little supper and he settled in to watch the KU basketball game. For the first time in more than a year, he went to bed without locking up the chicken house. I never think of closing the chickens’ little door because I can’t bend my wrists to fasten the locks, so the chickens went to bed unprotected.

Saturday morning Dennis realized his mistake. Six chickens were outside. Last year's chicken slaughter by raccoons was on our minds. Dennis postponed checking out the situation until I said, "You might as well get it over with." Sure enough, he found two chickens dead in their yard, having been dragged outside by the killer or killers, no doubt a roving band of juvenile male raccoons. A third chicken, Lucy, was badly injured with wounds on her head and neck. A fourth had some minor cuts on her head.

This tragedy left us with just six chickens, one of them unlikely to survive. On Craig’s List I found a seller offering three Rhode Island Red hens, one year old. Dennis drove a farm near Ottawa to get them.

After a few pecking order squabbles, the now-integrated flock is living in harmony. They laid six eggs yesterday.

It seems miraculous, but Lucy is still hanging on six days after the attack. She spends most of the day standing in a corner of the chicken yard but goes in to roost at night. Her head is squinched down between her shoulders. We haven’t seen her eat anything and fear that she will starve. Out of respect for Lucy I’m not posting her photo.

What a dilemma this presents: put Lucy out of her misery (assuming that is her state of being) or let nature take its course. Maybe she will recover.

Ah, this country life. It isn’t as romantic as some might think.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer