The Case of The Terrified Chooks - Part II


Got your man on camera chooks, now what?

Lady Guinea, bald rump and all, was at least accounted for. All day the chooks had been going about their business, foraging and taking dust baths as usual. Elvis crowed all day, Winona followed us around squawking, just the usual day for a chook on the farm. Or at least we thought.

After wrapping up chores and watching the sunset I went back into the barn only to see ALL of the birds up in the rafters roosting for the night. Crap! After months of them happily living in the coop this one incident terrified them to the point of abandonement. I wasn't about to let them get in that habit, so I took a plastic rake and shooed them out of the barn and rounded 'em up into the coop. They weren't happy about it, but it's better not to get them started on thinking the barn is their new coop.

The next day I went to check the nest boxes for eggs, and to no surprise, no eggs. The hens were either too frightened to lay eggs (which can last for weeks or months), or they were laying elsewhere. This would be harder to crack than the roosting problem. How do you get a hen to start laying in its coop again? No, seriously, how? 

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The Case of The Terrified Chooks - Part I

In Australia they call live chickens chooks. Once it hits the killing cone, however, it becomes chicken. For whatever reason, I enjoy referring to the chickens as chooks.

Thus, The Case of the Terrified Chooks, which all started one night when I failed to complete a critical chore on the farm. Closing the chicken coop door. You see, the chicken-brained chooks aren’t exactly quiet in their coop. Nor are they very cleanly. Both of which completely give them away to predators. Until now we haven’t had an issue with predators and the coop. I’ve forgotten to close the door on a few occasions (sorry chooks!), but luckily nothing happened.

Elvis and his lady, Sassafras. Winona dust bathing under the swing. She's the queen

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