Ann and Roger were over last night after chores. They came to collect the last of the chickens, seven in all. We’ve decided the area that serves as our coop would make much better heifer housing than poultry shelter. Ann and Roger always have room for a few more layers.

After they were done stuffing the hens in gunny sacks, we got to talking about, of all things, chickens. Ann wanted to know what happened to Crook Neck. The news wasn’t good.

Crook Neck survived a fox attack. A couple of summers ago, a red fox sauntered right up the driveway, pretty as you please, past the house and shed, making a bee line for the chicken coop. The coop isn’t fenced; the chickens peck around the barn and dry-cow pasture and go into the shed at night. I happened to look out the window in time to see the initial assault that killed three hens. The noise was horrible. By the time I alerted Wayne and he got the shotgun and got out the door, blood and feathers covered the entire driveway by the barn.

Wayne blasted the fox just as it went after another hen. He’s not sure if he hit it, but it dropped the chicken as it fled. I saw her neck wobbling badly, and turned to go get the axe. I didn’t think she was going to make it, and I didn’t want her to suffer.

By the time I found the axe and got back out to the driveway, the injured chicken was walking steady;well, except that her neck was as crooked as it could be. I decided to wait and see if she improved. She did, and she was mighty grateful to the humans who saved her. After the attack, she flat-out refused to return to the coop. She slept on the porch, and was waiting for us every morning at chore time. She would sit next to me as I cobbed corn for drying, cooing with delight when I tossed her a cob. She was fond of people and would allow visitors to pet her.

One morning in October, I awoke to a blinding snowstorm. To my dismay, Crook Neck was still on the porch. She was covered in snow and shivering. I decided to return her to the coop. She couldn’t survive on the porch, and there’s no way I’m letting a chicken live in my house. I put her in coop early that morning, and by that afternoon she was dead. The other hens pecked her to death. I was saddened and confused.

For over a year I wondered why the other hens had killed Crook Neck. After Countryside Publications invited me join their team as an assistant editor, I learned what had really happened. I had caused Crook Neck’s death. One of the great perks about working at Countryside is that I get to read all four magazines. It’s great. Sometimes, I get so busy reading, I forget edit! Another great perk is Elaine Belanger. No one knows more about chickens than Elaine.

I was proof-reading an issue of Backyard Poultry when I ran across an article about introducing new hens into the flock. The author claimed that this is best done at night. I was baffled, but when I asked Elaine she confirmed that unless you do it at night the newcomer will certainly be attacked and killed. It appears that Crook Neck survived a fox attack only to meet her demise at the hands of woefully uninformed human. I feel bad.

The good news is that since I’ve been reading….er, editing….Backyard Poultry, I’ve learned so much more about poultry. We’re going to build a real coop, complete with a fenced-in chicken yard. Since I am perfectly content to get my meat chickens delivered to my door by Organic Valley or the neighbor down the road, I only want a few chickens for eggs, entertainment, and meditation. Yes, meditation. There’s something very soothing about watching chickens, at least for me. I can’t be in a bad mood when I’m watching the chickens scratch and peck. It lifts my spirits every time.

As the last seven chickens left, I felt a twinge of regret. We have to get more chickens in the spring. I’m going to insist on it. Which means Wayne will have to actually build the chicken coop. He’s already complaining about having another project added to his roster. I’m getting my chicken coop. Watch and see.

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