In one of our conversations several weeks back, Cindy Marston mentioned getting some “spring” chickens from an Amish farmer in the upper Northern Neck. She added that she could get some for me if I wanted to return to raising chickens.
I readily accepted her kind offer, inasmuch as for purposes of domestic tranquility, I did not want to get baby chicks that would have to live under light in our utility room for some weeks until they feathered out. Cindy offered the ideal solution, i.e., hens that could go directly to the barnyard.
Two weeks ago, I went to Cindy’s farm to get six nice Rhode Island Reds, each of which is sufficiently mature to lay eggs. I have had the breed previously and found that they are excellent layers. Once home, I slowly introduced them to the other barnyard residents. Henry could not have cared less, preferring to honk back and forth with me, ignoring the new arrivals. He simply does not understand that he is a gander, always more interested in people than in livestock.
The Quacks, I and II, also were not interested, concentrating on what I shall be doing for them next. Gladys was a different story. She was most unwelcoming and rude, clearly aiming to intimidate the chickens by letting them know that she is in charge. I was embarrassed in front of them.
When I opened the door to let the Reds out of Cindy’s portable cage, they made clear that they would prefer to stay inside. I am sure that Gladys’s honking was off-putting to young fowl beginning to make their way in the world.
When I finally got them to leave the cage, they huddled together in one corner of the barnyard. Not satisfied that she had reduced them to a state of extreme nervosity, Gladys continued to put the pressure on, even more excessively, not realizing that she already had achieved mastery over the poor chickens and oblivious to any thought of trying to get along with them.
When feeding time arrived that evening, Gladys was all the more persistent in her unladylike behavior. Not surprisingly, she drove the chickens away from the food that I was serving them, gorging herself with every morsel. I was concerned that gulping the food down whole was not beneficial to her digestive system, but she did not care.
The situation remained for over a week, the chickens finding their relief at night when they roosted above Gladys. Web-footed fowl do not have the privilege of being able to get up and away from it all in the manner of chickens or turkeys. When morning came, the chickens alit, but once on the ground they continued clustering together, as if to present a united front against Gladys.
Slowly, matters have improved. The chickens seem to be rejecting Gladys’s pecking order, and now separate out from their huddle. I am feeding all the fowl in multiple locations, which obviously frustrates Gladys, but is salubrious to the other fowl’s welfare. I want them to have the proper nutritional composition for their own health, and to facilitate good egg production.
Getting new fowl to acclimatize themselves to an existing barnyard arrangement is not an easy task, particularly when a dominant figure such as Gladys is the “Chairfowl” of the “unwelcoming committee.” The coop has several roosts along the sides, and of late the chickens have separated at night, each finding new accommodations that are more private and comfortable.
Over the many years that I have raised fowl, I have found that Rhode Island Reds are not given to friendly banter with humans. Their interests center on eating and laying eggs, unlike Domineckers, which are far more engaging, but for the new hens, I surmise that at last they think of themselves as being at home.
