It’s been a rough week here at Darwin’s Eden.
One of the things I’ve dreaded for quite a while happened late Halloween night - Peanut the Chicken’s daughter Millie died in her sleep. She was 15, which is ancient for a chicken, surpassing the former Guinness record for world’s oldest living chicken before her mother earned it this year. (The former record holder was 14.)
Although Millie was six years younger than her mom, she always acted much older than Peanut. She was a little frumpy. This past year, she slowed down even more, and we jokingly called her “the lump.” Peanut often tried to nudge her into action, pointing her to the food dish, grooming her excessively, and talking to her in that sweet Peanut voice.
But Tuesday night, her efforts were in vain. They were nestled together in the cage they’ve shared nightly in our family room for the past year. I noticed Millie’s breathing slowing as she slept, and then her body relaxed completely.
Peanut stood on Millie’s body, her beak fluffing Millie’s feathers as she chirped in what seemed to me a frantic tone. She seemed to be urging Millie to “wake up, wake up!” But the moment I’d been dreading had come, and Peanut was alone.
I couldn’t bear to remove Millie’s body from the cage. I turned up the heating pad and held Peanut on my lap while it warmed. When I finally had to go to bed, I placed Peanut back in the cage, and she burrowed under Millie’s lifeless body.
In the morning, I removed Millie and wrapped her in a soft cloth and placed her in a small box for burial. If a chicken can look bereft, Peanut was managing to do so. It broke my heart to see her hunched up, eyes closed, with no interest in breakfast as was her norm. She even turned up her beak at blueberry yogurt.
When I went outside to feed my other birds, Peanut rode in my coat pocket, but instead of poking her head out to supervise my chores as usual, she buried her head in my elbow.
When we got to the coop where the silkies sleep with two black copper Marans named Cocoa and Cola, two bantam hens, and the one-eyed bantam rooster who lived with Peanut years ago, we saw him shivering on his roost. It had frosted and even snowed a little the night before, but normally that doesn’t bother a chicken. They are remarkably hardy. Still, he looked forlorn and cold, so when my chores were done, I scooped him up and brought Benny inside.
It seemed to cheer Peanut slightly at the sight of him in her cage. But Benny roosts at night, and at the age of 21, Peanut can’t hop onto a roost anymore. She she still sleeps alone. I may try a stuffed chicken tonight.
A friend of a friend is moving to Ireland and asked if I’d be willing to care for her elderly hen. Honey Bunny was quite pampered and had been living alone in a tack room at her stable. The hen had seemed depressed, so the friend purchased a colorful stuffed rooster at the feed store and placed him on her roost. She cheered up immediately. Honey Bunny is now residing with my old blind silkie roo Blind Guy, or BG for short, and they seem to be very comfortable together.
So we’ll see how it goes. Peanut is getting a lot of lap time. I miss Millie, too. If it were springtime, I’d find a couple of chicks for Peanut to mother. Mothering a new puppy, kitten, or chick has always helped me get through losing a pet.
It’s just too bad you can’t go out and get a new mother or daughter.
Oh Marsi, so sorry to hear this news.