weird things chickens have done

Carla Burke wrote:

Awww, I'm so sorry they're gone. They were mutts?? Identical mutts??? How does that even HAPPEN? And, identical mutts that were like the three musketeers! Wow!!

Chickens are so weird but so cool and awesome all at the same time! I miss them too. They were tough ladies too! Eventually we could tell one of them apart because a coyote got her wing but she survived that encounter. But then we had a really bad year with coyotes and eagles and lost almost everyone.

We've had some crazy results from our indiscriminate chicken breeding. (See picture below)

Awww!! So sweet! I think, at this point, if we have any chicks, they'll possibly be mostly halfbreeds. By next year, we could get to the point of 'well THAT'S an interesting looking chick!' We have Buff Orps, Black Austrolorps, Barred Rock, and the latest 6 pullet additions are Golden Comet. My 3 roos are Buff & Barred, so... Lol - moving into Landrace territory with you, soon.

When I was wwoofing a few years ago, one of my jobs was to take care of the chickens. The farmer told me not to let them out at the same time each day because if they got into a routine they would raise a fuss when it was "time" to be let out. It was best to keep them guessing.
Sometimes, when I would let them out later than usual, this one hen would come shooting out the chicken-house door (located inside the barn), out the back door of the barn, run all the way around the barn at top speed, back in the front door and leap into a large tote full of tarps, where she liked to lay her eggs. She acted just as if she had to pee really bad!
The funny thing was that the tote was right outside the door of the chicken house, but she seemed to think the only way to get to it was run all the way around the barn.

I had a silky rooster that was so much smaller than the hens when we got him that he was afraid of them. They bullied him mercilessly. As he got older (and very slightly larger), he became more aggressive and soon the hens were showing him proper respect, even though they were half again his size. The older he got, the more controlling he got. He had to inspect every bite they ate and if they tried to eat without consulting him first, he would discipline them. Soon, he was keeping them in a tight herd and if one wandered too far, he'd fly at them in a rage. Then he started confining them to the chicken run instead of letting them out to free-range. Their allowed area became smaller and smaller until he wouldn't let them out from under the raised henhouse, even to eat, drink or lay eggs. I had to set up water and food for them under the henhouse if they were going to get anything at all.
Finally, I had to confine him to the chicken run and let the girls free-range. He was furious and would attack us every chance he got. in the end, I put a very uncomplimentary ad in the local sale forum, enumerating every bad trait he had and saying he was free to whomever wanted him. Surprisingly, someone took him to put in with his hens. I felt very sorry for those girls.

Maggie May, a.k.a. Mary Margaret  “walks” on water.

This thread really cracked me up. My younger daughter has a bunch of chickens and every one has a name and a unique personality. They are as affectionate as any dog or cat I've ever owned. My grand kids are totally smitten with the chooks. My grand daughter will go out to the run/coop in her jammies and "girlie" muck boots (quite the fashion statement) and snag a couple birds who just want to be snuggled...She's like a 10 year old Ellie Mae Clampett (for those of us who remember The Beverly Hillbillies Show from the 60's)
Thanks to all the contributors here. It has been quite amusing

One of my roosters is so snuggly with me and chill with the girls, I figured he probably didn't have much of a fighting, protective instinct. I recently discovered how wrong I was. I was in the coop, spraying some vinegar on the perch to clean it. Fern walked in, saw the spray bottle and went ballistic on it. He just kept leaping at it, talons and beak first. It was quite impressive and a little scary. I set it down, picked him up, showed him it was okay and praised him for protecting me and the girls from the scary thing. Lately, his nemesis is the water jug I carry out to refill their bowls with. He gets the hens all to go under the coop, then launches himself at the water vessel til I take it away. Then he usually crows, presumably announcing his victory over the scary thing. Not that weird, other than the particular objects that seem to set him off. Perhaps the vague size and shape resemblance to a bird of prey?

The other rooster, Bert, has made it known that he really, really loves tea. It's been hot, so I've been taking them tulsi, oatstraw and rose tea in the hopes the extra minerals and vitamin c help them manage the heat stress better. They all like it, but Bert will just guzzle it. He always chooses it over regular water. He can be quite aggro at times and the tea seems to help. We've been joking that he likes it so much cause he knows he needs the tulsi and oatstraw to chill out. Though now he does give me a dirty look every time I show up without any tea.

Interestingly, Bert has no quarrel with the water jug that Fern seems so perturbed by. Unfortunately, he does seem to be of the opinion that my feet are a threat and need to be bitten. Guess I'd better keep bringing him the tea.

We had a buff orp rooster from last year's brood that got meaner as he got older - but was mean from the get-go. Over the winter, we hoped he'd mellow, but... nope. Our other roos (another BO & 2 Barred Rock) weren't happy, because he was a constant bully to them and the hens, and over the winter, he even began picking on Charlie - my little Cavalier girl. The older he got, the more viscous he got, too. I wish now, I'd noticed the depth of all the damage he was doing. Last month, we had a lot of company, and toward the end of the month, he attacked Charlie again, for no reason. I'd had enough. I cussed him, and told him I was done. I turned to go in for a gun with a less expensive round (y'all, self defense rounds are not cheap OR easy to find, these days!), when John said, "I got this." We walked up to the barn, to get away from the house, and John told me to let him know when I was ready - I said, "last August! Duit!" This jerk rooster crowed, and John fired. Feather's flew, the rooster dropped, and one of the Barred Rock roosters, who had followed us up the hill, started pecking SLAMMING his beak into various parts of the now-dead rooster, very much as if he were saying, "So THERE!" (SLAM!) "I HATE you!" (SLAM!) "You SUCK!!" (SLAM!) "Serves you RIGHT!!"(SLAM!!) Then, he stood up, fluffed his feathers, and strutted off, as proud of himself as if he'd been the one to 'Save us all' from "The Dreaded Bucka".

Between the relief of knowing he wouldn't hurt anyone, again, and the Barred Rock's antics, we couldn't help laughing. But, the next morning, was so strange! The entire barnyard was quiet. We had NO CLUE just how much of the barnyard uproar we'd become accustomed to was because of one mean rooster. So glad he's gone - and now we have a new fondness for a certain other roo!

I merged your stuff with the following thread. I hope that is okay by you.

Blanche maPoule is a survivor, has outlived her three sisters, and loves gardening.  She carefully tends plants such as currant bushes, raspberry canes, flowers and deliberately planted growing things, but tears up weeds with relentless ferocity, down to bare soil.
She can't bear overgrowth or anything that might harbour unfriendly or predatory animals.

My daughter went into hospital, so Blanche went to stay at my neighbour's place, who now has three french hens (no turtle doves).
Once I got back home again, after a couple of weeks, I went to check on my chukkie friend. Now, dont get me wrong, we were the best of friends. I would only have to poke my beak out of the garage door, and wherever she was, she'd come running!

She loved wandering around the garden alongside me, companionably, scratching up seeds I'd just p!anted, or tearing into seedbeds I was preparing. We used to cluck to each orher and have pretty far out conversations.

So you can imagine the scenario... I turned up, after a couple of weeks absence, looking forward to seeing her. I'd missed her.  But I needn't have worried.  She'd made friends with one of Juliette's two little red hens. They were inspecting the grubs in the boundaries, along by the hedge.

I knew before, when she was at home, that Blanche was missing the girls back at ours. First the red was taken, then the black, and finally the grey had gone, leaving a pile of beautiful feathers.

So it was no surprise when she got chummy with the little red hen at my next but one neighbour's. She was a bit of a ringleader. But I didn't expect her reaction when i finally got back to check on her. I felt like a mum arriving to pick up my toddler from a playdate.

Blanche took one look at me and, abandoning her peaceful copine, took off running
- but in the opposite direction! She was even pretty perturbed that her friend wasn't at all fazed and carried on gardening, right next to me.

It was such a beady look, a deliberate 'Oh no I'm not!' moment of rebellion, I was shocked!
Mentioning it to my friend, her response was 'Well, what do you expect, Jane? She's a chicken, of course she's not going to remember you!  

Except that I had the disinct impression that she remembered me very well - we were best mates - but that she'd rediscovered chicken love, and wasn't about to go back to solitude and a human substitute!

She was actually ashamed of her previous chumminess, strutting in the houae, and her knee jerk rushing towards me, Pavlovian responses, whenever I appeared! Nope. Shed definitely decided the grass was greener with her new flock!

I tried a 'Baaak buk buk' and a 'Buk buuuk bukbuk?'  but she wasnt having any.
'You can Baaak buk off!' she thought, loudly.... And...
She let her feet reply.

Ok, I've been keeping chickens all my 68 years.  I've mostly kept old school breeds, Barred Rocks are my favorites; hardy, smart, good layers, yadda yadda.  Never had any real issue outside of the usual.  I'm on my umpteenth flock, both bought and bred.  One thing I've come to realize, and most of you have experienced the same, is that every flock has its own personality.  This current flock is store-bought (Mt. Healthy) and they've been great so far, even got a rooster for free (bought all hens.)  

My only problem...they won't leave the coop.  Granted, it's a pretty nice coop.  I built it for a flock of 24-36 birds, so it's nice and airy, clean, plenty of space for my downsized flock of 10 gals and one decidely low key dude (he's still young.)  I have cut down the 'yard' by two-thirds, from the almost 2,000 ft2 fenced in area to about 700 ft2.  It's fenced in like Stalag 17 (no search lights but several predator red-eye lights,) with hawk string overhead; safe as can be.  The dogs don't go anywhere near the compound, they had all the electric fence Pavlovian conditioning they could take a few years ago.  It's freshly mowed and ready for any self-respecting hen to get to some serious scratching.  I've never had a flock that wouldn't jump at the chance to get out of the house and start getting in touch with their inner dinosaur.  Not this crew.  I've put scratch grain on the runway, I've shooed them out of the coop with a broom, they go out and come right back in.  
This is very strange and unexpected behavior, out of character for such a stout breed, to be sure.  I'm going to try to simply put their gravity feeder and nipple waterer out in the yard, see if that does it.  Otherwise, has anyone else had this experience, and if so, what did you do to solve it?  They're just at 15 weeks old.  I'm hoping they outgrow it but they've been out of the brooder and in the "big house" for a few weeks now.  

And the remaing 'old' yard, 20 years of chicken tractoring, alternating with cover of Austrian Winter Pea cover, is being converted to two fruit trees and some Victory Garden-type expansion; cabbage, beans, roots, etc.  I have a feeling I'm going to need it here right soon.  

Growing up, the expression "playing chicken" was common, but never fully understood until we got chickens. They were allowed to free range and loved the fresh cut lawn. In fact, they especially loved to run right in front of the lawnmower chasing bugs. The ultimate game of "chicken" as they dodged out of the way at the last possible moment.

I was not so nimble one night when moving their coop. It's on bicycle wheels so it rolls pretty good. The chickens were all locked in for the night and I started rolling it down the road from the barn. Everything was going great as my wife looked on from the top of the hill. The road gets a little more steep about half way down and that's where the trouble started. I was doing everything I could to hold it back and hollering at my wife to help slow it down. Faced with the thought of it crashing out into the field below, I started running in front then beside the coop. That's when my foot went under the edge and down I went. It rolled mostly over me and pushed me to the bottom of the road where it leveled out. That's right, grandpa got run over by the chicken coop! My wife caught up and was yelling to see if I was OK. My head and arms sticking out like the witch's red shoes sticking out from under the house in the Wizard of Oz was too much for her and she almost peed her pants laughing at me. The chickens all slept through the E-Ticket ride.

Speaking of peeing, sometimes I'm known to pee out in the yard (totally committed to permaculture, you know). All the cats and I have a gentleman's agreement and they leave me to it. One particular chicken, not so much. There I was minding my own business when she ran right between my legs, obviously thinking "MUST CATCH SHINY GOLDEN BUGS!" Hilarity ensued. No matter which way I twisted and turned, I could not avoid peeing on the chicken. Fortunately, there is not a video of us dancing around together on the side of the hill Knowing she liked to be petted the only thing left to do was spray her off with the garden hose. I was much more observant of the chickens after that experience.

Last spring after getting the flocks fully acclimated to their new coops and runs, it was time to let the
chickens free range outside of the fenced in yard area of their "home territory".  Eventually it worked
out pretty good and each flock (each with a rooster and his hens) would return to their respective coops
each evening.

In the beginning it didn't always work out that way and some of the birds would stay out late for some
chicken Tom Foolery. One time the rooster from one coop and a hen from the other were nowhere in to
be seen. About the time the hunt for them started, quite a ruckus could be heard in the hoop structure  
my brother was building to house his quail. Upon entering the building, "Big Boy" the rooster was back
in a corner squawking, clucking and crowing and cheering on "Lacy" who was strutting back and forth
on a sheet of plywood and shaking her tail like she was a stripper prancing and putting on a show for him.

Had to chase them out of there. Lacy hoofed it and was out of there in mere seconds like the guilty little
hussy she was, But Big Boy resisted and LOUDLY voiced his complaint that I had crashed his little private
party. He was squawking as if to say "Dang dude, you're harshing my gig... I was about to get some of that!"
He even pecked at my foot as I herded him out the door. It was hilarious.

Years ago I took calls for AAA and dispatched the appropriate service.
One day I got a call from this elderly woman who lived in a rural area a few miles from town.
One of the neighbors chickens had gotten loose and was under the hood of her car.  She couldn't reach the chicken, and, her husband's back was bothering him.  So, she needed our help to get to the store without shredding a live chicken with the fan blades of her engine.
I sent out a truck with the following instructions.
If you can get the chicken out of the engine compartment, great, you're done.
If you can't get to the chicken, take it to the shop so the mechanic can get the chicken.
We got strange calls fairly regularly.  That's the only one I remember about a chicken.
I have a much longer story about turkey hunting if someone requests.

Sarah Elizabeth wrote:

Heather Sharpe wrote: Makes me think of this scene and feel really grateful they're not six feet tall. Respect, chickens.

Love that scene.

Yeah, six foot chickens.  Imagine the feathers when they molted.  Imagine the poop..    

Sometimes I tell my chickens that they are little dinosaurs and they turn their heads to the side and fix me with a beady stare.

At the moment,  I think they wish they were ducks, given the rainy weather. Until this week, it had been a beautiful, dry, crisp autumn.

In fact, the tractor, with a very noisy trailer, had been bailing hay right next to them in the field.  I thought they might be nervous as they had not experienced this before but they did not bat an eyelid.

We also had F35s doing practice runs at low altitude directly overhead and again, nothing.  They took it in their stride.

They were, however, scared of a large cabbage..

Am I allowed a duck story in this chicken list? I once had a poorly duckling I kept in the house as he/she kept throwing the head back and unbalancing. Although it didn't survive, it had great courage (?) A friend visited, bringing a red setter she was dog sitting. The setter was a hunting dog. And he was absolutely petrified of this duckling, to the point of jumping on the lap of his sitter and shivering.

Madeleine Innocent wrote:

Sarah Elizabeth wrote:

Heather Sharpe wrote: Makes me think of this scene and feel really grateful they're not six feet tall. Respect, chickens.

Love that scene.

Yeah, six foot chickens.  Imagine the feathers when they molted.  Imagine the poop..    

.

I think I can imagine that much chicken poop.
My uncle used to keep 16,000 laying hens.  That produced a crazy amount of droppings.  Made great fertilizer for his fields.

I didn't quite believe what James Freyr said in this thread until the other day. That was when I caught our new and not very bully-ish rooster named Randy sitting on the nest the girls had lately been using. Sure enough, under him were three eggs! Chickens certainly are weird. Thanks James for keying me in to the amazing possibilities of weird chicken behavior.

I had heard that natural yogurt can help chickens that have vent gleet. I'm not sure that's what's bugging a girl in the A-team, but I figured some gut support wouldn't hurt. The trouble is that those girls had never been fed yogurt before. I made it myself and put it in a 250ml clear plastic container with a lid, as they're a fair distance from the house so glass wasn't the safest option. I removed the lid and put it on the ground in their shelter. They looked at it, they circled it, they got close to it, but they didn't touch it. Soooo... I stuck my finger in it. A bit dripped onto the grass and a girl tasted that bit, another chicken bit it off my finger, but I sure wasn't going to feed it all to them that way! So I spilled it on the grass in several spots and they descended on it and hoovered it. Really? What is soooo... scary about a clear plastic pot if you're a chicken? Hopefully it will help the target girl (1 of 12). I'd prefer not to have to isolate her, but I have a spot to do so if she doesn't show signs of improvement in good time. I guess I'll be making some more yogurt!

I'm glad you were able to introduce them to yogurt!
I'm sure some of the goodness will make it to your hen.

My flock gets all their dairy products out of one of two old metal dog bowls. Since I no longer have dogs, the supplies are being repurposed over to the chickens and do a great job!
The metal is easy to clean, tough enough to stand up to  lot of random situations, and the chickens are used to it being on the back porch.

I've had trouble trying to convince them that containers are Okay, so I just dump stuff on the ground or put it in the dog bowl. It works.
I'm glad you found a way that worked out for all of you!

More fun on the farm. I've got one group of chickens that has to supervise me closely while I collect their eggs, trip me any chance they get, try to eat me through the mesh as I do up the catch on their door, but the girl below got the prize!

We use square buckets to carry the feed to the field and they're very convenient for pouring the feed into the feeder. This group has a cover over the top of their feeder as if we have wind with rain, the feed can get wet. I put the bucket down so I could raise the cover, turned back and there was...



...a chicken in the bucket. Their feeder was *not* empty! I guess she just thought it would taste different? At least she was polite enough not to poop in it!

I can hardly take a picture in the yard without the chickens in the view.

Here is a heavily cropped and neat picture for display


In real life it looked like this:


Even the finished tray turned into a chicken dinner plate

I have noticed a pattern, and I am jealous.

My chickens have a reoccurring mid day nap, they all shuffle into their coop around the eleven to noon time frame and hang out for about forty minutes doing who knows what.

I have snuck up to try and get an idea of what is happening but they post guard at the coop door! I got found out by one of my Australorps who sounded the alarm and they all spilled out expecting tribute (scratch).

I'll have to try better next time to make sure they arn't plotting my future downfall.

My last batch of buckeyes are very good foragers. They would follow me in the garden and wait for me to turn every log or stump. I will not have any pill bug or slug problem the coming spring! But then it's a bit creepy when I process and pluck some cockerels, they always come rushing to eat the feathers, especially the pin feathers. I guess they simply see everything by its biochemical nature.

Wait....what?!  

Those aren't chick....



At one point we had a Muscovy momma that sadly got killed by a dog, and she left behind a clutch of about a dozen eggs that were very close to hatching.  

At the same time we had a couple of Japanese chicken sisters that were sharing a nest, and they both went broody together.  These birdies were half the size of a regular chicken, and so were the eggs that they were laying.  

I decided to switch out their mini eggs with the muscovy eggs. A dozen of these extra large eggs would have been too much for one of the chicken mommas to handle, but between the two of them they were all able to fit under their bellies.  Sure enough within a week they hatched.  



Shortly after hatching the two sisters had a bloody battle trying to claim the babies as their own, and we had to separate them. Half the babies went with one momma, and half with the other.  By the next day they were all together again with no issues, They went on to raise the little duckins...chucklings...until they could care for themselves.  They all survived, despite the fact that the area we were in had lots of predators.    



Surprisingly the chicken mommas proved to be much better at raising ducklings than our one other muscovy momma.

My first year with chickens.

Half of the chicken run barrier is scrap 4 ft woven metal fence, blackberries and dead hedge to increase height and fill the gaps.  

1 of 5 chickens was the fearless thorn and bushwacker...

Dubbed "Rebel Red" the one and only Rhode island red.  The olive eggers and wellsomers were not so inclined to test the fence.  Rebel red was the only chicken to bother getting out of the run, and it happened 40+ times, but she was finally stopped.



There's also 6 ducks.  Ducks have many gestures to communicate, and one of them is flapping/snapping their wings at you.  Like "buzz off, I am more than u"

One time, a duck is flapping it's wings at the Wellsomer chicken, about 8' away.  It's sustained, like 6 seconds total, clouds of dust and bits flying at the chicken as the duck demonstrated it's might.  And that chicken stood as proudly and in your face as anything I've ever seen.  The Defiant Chicken (TM)

wait, it gets better

After assuming the defiant posture for 2-3 seconds against the clouds of dust sent by the flapping duck, the chicken then charged the duck, despite being 5 lbs versus 9.  The chicken jumped and flew at the duck from 5' away, talons first.  The duck gave a loud honk in surprise and jumped out of the way.

I've been wishing this or something like it would happen again, but it hasn't.

Momma hen had her butt nuggets switched out in order to incubate some fertilized Polish chicken eggs we purchased.  They all hatched, and soon she found herself having to deal with this little hoodlum...



What a foster mother will tolerate.  

That hen needs to be canonized for sainthood!! I think I'd have pecked that little shit within an inch of its life.

When you have free ranging chickens, do remember to check the truck bed before leaving the house. This afternoon my husband pulled up while I was working and told me there was something to unload. It was a buckeye pullet taking a free ride! He spotted her in the rear view mirror on the way but needed to keep on going somewhere else. So I put the chicken in a fenced area with food and water untill I can go home. This little gal has the strongest personality out of all five buckeyes. she is only one staying up in the yew tree at night and she likes stealing food off a hot BBQ grill.

Add a picture. She is nosy/curious.

One of my hens has been crowing for a few months now.  Now some of the other hens are learning the behavior.

Bemused emoji.