The loss of a few Bantam chickens made us think of getting some bigger chickens. Our reasoning was two-fold: they’d be trained to come into the chicken pen at night for protection and, being much larger than the Bantams, would less likely fall prey to hawks or owls. We bought four Rhode Island Red hens and named them Martha and the Vandals. Not really sure why, it just stuck.The four big hens fit right into the flock, and were soon grazing the lawn and hanging out under the trees during the day. At night, we’d shoo them into their enclosure and let them out the next morning. Often they’d lay large eggs with bright orange yolks. The eggs were rich and we found them to be very strong tasting but golly they made huge omelets and with enough onions and tomatoes and the like, they weren’t bad.
For months all was well with the flock until we came up short one hen. We kept our eyes peeled but she went missing for several days. We’d just about given up hope for her when, one fateful day, we were out in the back yard grilling burgers with a handful of visiting friends. All of a sudden we heard loud squawking and thrashing noises beyond the trees at the edge of the lawn. As we headed over to the tree line, a big red hen came racing out onto the lawn, flapping her wings and screaming crazily, scattering tiny feathers as she ran around in circles and darted about the lawn.
We quickly grabbed a long-handled fish net that was leaning against a tree down near the lake and with the help of a few people, we chased the panicked hen until we netted her. Feathers had been obviously ripped painfully out of her head, her tail, a wing and a section of her body. The poor thing was bleeding where the feathers had been snatched out and was clearly in shock and pain.
We were all in shock too, and as we hovered over the mangled hen, we discussed what could have done this to her. A dog? Nope- we would have known if there were strange dogs in the neighborhood, and all the known neighbor dogs left the chickens and geese alone. Maybe a gator? Nope- she came out of the woods, not the lake, and gators didn’t hang out in the woods. Then, maybe, a raccoon? Yeah, maybe but boy, that would need to be one big, mean ‘coon to do this kind of damage.
The hen eventually calmed down a bit and we determined that there wasn’t too much we could do to help her. She’d lost a lot of feathers but otherwise seemed able to walk and dart about, her eyes and legs were undamaged, so we put her up in the pen to keep an eye on her progress.
After a couple of days, she seemed normal and it appeared some feathers were growing back, so we let her out of her jail so that she could eat bugs and scratch for pebbles and hang with the flock.