We noticed recently that the old white hen, our oldest, could not jump up into the roost any longer; we found her lying under it at night, a dangerous position for a hen to be in. Maria researched and discovered a vast and overgrown claw on the hen; she thought that was why the hen couldn’t jump up to get to the roost.
She reached into the roost, wrapped the old hen in a towel – which calms them when held – and handed her to me. I sat in the chair, holding the hen in my chest like a human baby. She didn’t move a muscle, just clucked very softly.
Maria found the overgrown claw and one other and snipped them, much as we would a dog’s nails. It was a new experience for me, but part of the challenges of a farm and animals. She got unwrapped and started walking energetically; we won’t know until tonight if the claw was the problem. We couldn’t let her wander around at night.
We no longer name our hens because so many of them get eaten. But she’s been with us about eight years, and we’ve gotten fond of her.
The sun finally emerged late this morning. My blue skies have returned.
