On Saturday afternoon I took poor little Amy Winehouse outside and put her in the run with the other chickens (and of course, Gigantor). Well, let me tell you, they set upon her like ducks on a june bug. It was dreadful. So I took her out and let her scratch around outside the run. While she was there, Original (the Orpington) and Gigantor tried to peck at her through the fencing. I think this is the first time I have disliked my chickens. It didn’t last for long, but every time I look at that poor chicken and think about how boring it must be to live in a bath tub, I get mad at them. I mean, really…she can’t live in the bath tub forever, and I’m having a hard enough time maintaining one chicken run…trying to keep Gunner out of TWO will be impossible. Have I even talked about Gunner here? I’ll have to check. In the meantime, if you know how to remind chickens that just because one of them is injured doesn’t mean the rest of the flock should try to kill it…please share.
On the unkindness of chickens. February 18, 2010