Simple Life Lessons. Taught by a Chicken.

When I was looking up chicken illness information, trying to diagnose our Sweetums, I came across a line in a blog (I would link it but I can't find it now!) that really struck a chord. "No one said the simple life was easy."

That line has popped into my head repeatedly these past few weeks as we've debated our course of action with our sick hen, finally concluding last night that euthanizing her was the humane thing to do.

Sweetums was my favorite little hen of the bunch and she taught me so much about chickens, chicken keeping, and life in general.

She had a wound on her leg that was being pecked at by the other hens (shame on you sister hens!). J and I became masters at chicken catching, cleaning, applying Bluekote to a chicken leg, cleaning Bluekote off of hands and clothes. We separated Sweetums from the rest of the hens while she healed and watched her quickly adapt back into the flock when she was better.

She taught me that chickens can out smart a fox. We had them out free ranging one afternoon last summer and somehow she became separated from the rest of the flock (she had a tendency to wander off to find the best piles of leaves with the biggest worms hiding underneath). We searched through the woods for her for 30 minutes or so when J saw her being chased by a fox. She disappeared again and we thought the worst. A few hours later, she was pacing at the run door trying to get back in to her sisters. I'll never underestimate a chicken again!

She was the first chicken I've ever given a bubble bath - and she loved it!

And she proved that when you are sick - a day in the sunshine with your family will perk you right up.


Probably the biggest thing that Sweetums has taught me is that chickens are wonderful little animals that deserve more than the life most hens have. I know that J and I have given all our chickens the best life we can. They aren't caged. They get treats and (supervised) free ranging time. When they are sick - I won't hesitate to bathe them, nurse them, and (literally) spoon feed them warm oatmeal. But when you have to put down a little bird that you care about, it's hard not to second guess what you could have done better.

The changes J and I have made to try to live a "simple" life has been one of the hardest things we have done. It takes a huge amount of time, it's hard work, it requires working in the extreme hot and the extreme cold, a lot of extra planning to go away for a weekend, it's not cheap, and it can be emotionally draining. I know that going forward we will be faced with more hard decisions. Our birds will get sick, they will die or disappear, or we will (again) have to make a hard decision. I hope that we continue to feel that it's worth it.

I know that it's worth it when we enjoy our eggs. It's worth it when I can sit outside on a beautiful evening and watch our hens dig for worms in the woods, or watch them run full-speed to be the first in line for a tasty treat. It's worth it when we eat a dinner made from our summer harvest, or when we pop open a jar of sauces, jelly, or salsa in the middle of winter.

The simple life isn't easy, but it sure is rewarding. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

RIP Sweetums

Last night, we had to make the hard decision to put our wonderful Sweetums to sleep.



Sweetums was one of the four older hens we have. We were given these girls when they were about 4 months old from J's cousin, who owns a farm nearby, and was looking to reduce her flock size. They are all now 4 years old. They lay intermittently - we get an egg (maybe two) a day between the four of them.

All four girls were wonderful little mutt chickens - we think Sweetums was a mix of an Easter Egger and a Partridge Rock. She had cute fluff face (hence the name Sweetums for the monster Muppet), was the smallest of the four, and had the coloring of a Partridge Rock.

We knew something was wrong with our lovely little Sweetums about a month ago. She wasn't pooping right, was shivering (it was during one of the last really cold-snowy spells we had this winter), pale comb, and we hadn't seen her eat for a while. We brought her inside, bathed her to get the poop off, (hand fed) her oatmeal, and treated her with epsom salt and cider vinegar (at different times - for different symptoms).



Our diagnosis at the time was that she might be internal laying. Unfortunately, it's hard to tell what exactly a hen is sick with. All external symptoms (lethargy, diarrhea, not eating, etc.) apply across the board to almost all chicken illnesses.

We were going to put her down at that time, because she still wasn't eating well and wasn't her normal perky self. We had a break in the weather, though, and decided to give her one last day with her sisters outside. She instantly perked up, started scratching around for bugs and worms, and started eating and drinking again - not with her normal appetite, but enough to give us some hope. We decided that as long as she was eating, we would let her be outside with her girls.

In the back of my mind I knew that we were just buying time. Sweetums was never 100%, eating - but not well, and not quite as active or talkative as she usually was.

Last night I got home from work and decided to let all the girls out to free-range for an hour or so before it got dark. Sweetums was laying on her side in the run. I picked her up and she felt like skin and bones. We put her in the grass and she walked and tried to eat a little, but you could tell she wasn't right. Her wings were droopy, and she was all puffed up. She didn't have the strength to walk up the ramp at dusk and we knew it was time.

We decided to euthanize her. Neither J nor I have ever had to cull a chicken and we were both worried that our lack of experience would do more harm than good for our dear little Sweetums.

It is heartbreaking to lose something that you have cared for, who has given you joy and smiles (and eggs!). Every decision we made was what we thought would be in her best interest, but you can't help to second guess yourself. I hope that we made Sweetums more comfortable and happy in her final days with us.

We'll miss you...