Story: Debbie the Chicken

I want to tell you a story about a chicken named Debbie and a funny thing she did.

Last April, we got chickens. We thought it would be great to have farm-fresh eggs each day, and I thought it would be great fun to have chickens to pet and cuddle.

The Henhouse Hilton

A friend sold us her chicken house and chicken yard, and the deal came with two Americana chickens named Nosey and Rosie. As if the move from a shady, quiet wooded backyard to a sunny, hot location behind our barn wasn't stressful enough, we added to their dismay by getting six pullets from another friend and putting them all together. We knew it would be awhile before the new chickens started laying eggs, so we made every attempt to feed them well and keep them comfortable in the meantime.

I soon learned that chickens do not like to be petted, and they REALLY do not like to be cuddled. They are fickle animals, and Rosie and Nosey were so

traumatized by their new environment, they would not lay eggs. They ran from us and sulked in

Rosie

the corner when penned up with the 'new kids.' But as time went on, they got used to each other and somewhat to us.

By August they were all laying eggs and two of the new chickens, which were Golden Comets, were friendlier than the others. One was especially beautiful, with a white collar of feathers around her neck and fluffy white tail feathers. When I would speak gently to her and approach her slowly, she would 'squat' and let me pet her.

Golden Comets

Soon I was picking her up and, though she wasn't comfortable with it, she would tolerate it. When people would come to visit, I would pick her up and let them pet her. My friend Debbie, from around the corner, thought the chickens were great and especially liked the 'friendly' chicken. So when I decided to name the bird, I called her 'Debbie,' after my sweet, lovely friend.

We would let the chickens free range and they were very good about staying in the yard, though they wandered into the bordering cornfields sometimes. But when dusk came, they always came in to the pen and then the hen house, and we would close things up for the night. An electric fence along the fence kept predators away.

After awhile, Debbie the Chicken got to know her name. When I would call her, she would stop and look around, and sometimes she would come to me. A treat in my hand usually helped coax her, and she would let me pick her up. I really liked that chicken.

The funny thing she did was, one afternoon the chickens were strolling on the far side of the pond. Now, our pond has a 'leak' (I'm not kidding) and there was a strip across the middle that was dry. Just for fun, I called out, "Debbie! Hi Debbie! Come let me pet you!" She stopped dead in her tracks and looked across the pond at me. Oh! I had her attention! So I squatted down and patted my hands together and said, "Come on Debbie! Come on!"

Low and behold, no one was more surprised than me when she came trotting down the bank, across the pond and up and over to me! She squatted obediently and let me pet and stroke her, and I told her what an incredible chicken she was. My husband was stunned. Then she went on her way.

Then, in the fall, other wild animals figured out we had chickens and came to 'visit.' One Saturday, while my husband was gone (naturally), I heard a big noisy fuss from the backyard and looked out the kitchen window. A coyote was chasing the chickens!!! "Hey!" I yelled out the window, "get away from those chickens!"

The stunned coyote looked and me in the window and froze. I went running out the door and into the backyard hollering like a mad woman. No varmint was going to harm my chickens! The

coyote panicked and ran back into the cornfield. Unfortunately, some of the frightened chickens did, too, and it took awhile to find them all. I called my husband and he came home, and we searched. We found them all but Nosey and Rosie who, hours later, clucked and called from the cornfield to the west. We followed their calls and guided them home.

My beautiful Debbie was safe, and all was well, though we watched for the coyote.

Then chickens started disappearing one by one. We would find feathers but no chickens or predator tracks. Was it the coyote? One night all the chickens did not put themselves in - one was missing. We were down to 7 chickens now. We could not find the missing chicken in the dark, so we would have to search in the morning.

At daylight, my husband came in and said a chicken was missing, it was Debbie, and there were feathers on the east side of the barn. "Are you sure it was Debbie?" I asked. Yes, he was sure. The other chickens did not have the white collar.

I was sad. My Debbie was gone and an unknown varmint had snatched her up. I broke the news to my friend, and she felt bad, too. The remaining six chickens did not want to leave the pen. So we kept them in for a long time.

Then, in December, my friend Debbie stopped by with 'presents' for the chickens: feed and straw and treats. While we stood outside and talked, there was a big noisy ruckus behind the barn. We ran to the back and what did we see? A young red-tailed hawk, killing a chicken! We started yelling to scare him off but he would not leave. I dragged the dead chicken under a vehicle sitting by the pen, and ran back to the house to put on a coat. When I came back, the hawk was dive-bombing my friend Debbie! He wanted his prey he'd worked so hard to earn. 

I called my husband (again, away at the time) and he came home. Now we knew why we found no tracks around the chicken feathers that remained after a kill. I was amazed a bird half the size of the chickens was killing them. The chickens have been penned up ever since.

We are down to five chickens now, and only three are laying. Rosie and Nosey have decided they put in their time at their previous home, so they are 'retired.' They eat and complain and sleep. When warmer weather comes, we will get more chickens from a hatchery and watch for the hawk, who was back the other day killing sparrows at the big feeder.

I told hubby to please ask the hatchery for 'friendly chickens who like to be cuddled."

He told me not to hold my breath on that one. I guess there was only one Debbie.