Miss Broody Rejoins the World

Bobcat at our place

I had given up hope.

Our one remaining hen has been on her nest all summer. She’d always been the broodiest of our flock of Buff Orpingtons, but I suspected this particular broody period of hers, which should have lasted maybe a few weeks, had become permanent.

I think she was completely traumatized by the last bobcat attack in June—so much so she would never recover. 

Up close, bobcats don’t seem that fierce, do they? But they are relentless chicken hunters. 

And when the cat carried off her chicken “sister,” our feisty Little Britches, our last hen decided to just spend the rest of her days in the coop.

Each day, I’d lift her off the nest—broody hens rarely get off their nest unless you make them— and put her in front of the waterer. I’d stick around until she drank, and coax her into having a little feed. Then, unless I blocked the hen door into the coop, she would run back inside.

This week, I figured I’d seen the writing on the wall. This poor little animal was eating just enough to barely stay alive. She was going to live out her days alone in the coop, pale and sickly, until she just gave up on life.

Of course she wasn’t laying, i.e., fulfilling her hen destiny. I figured she never would again, not without other hens and their laying-egg hormones around. But she also wasn’t scratching the ground, enjoying her feed, or chasing bugs.

Yet I was most concerned about her loneliness—hens are herd animals, meant to live with others. And without any other hen companionship, I couldn’t see any future for Miss Broody at our place—forever under the threat of a bobcat or other predators.

Two days ago, I was ready to ask some hen-keeping folks I know, who LOVE animals, if they would be interested another chicken—of course confessing that this one had quit laying. Or calling the Humane Society—maybe they knew of some people who ran sort of an old folks home for chickens past their prime.

I hated giving up on Miss Broody—but I was sure she’d be happier somewhere else.

Yesterday, I heard her chattering a bit—and wondered if she’d sensed a predator, which was nothing new. But I still had to yard her off her nest and get her to eat.

In the early evening, though, I peeked into the coop. Miss Broody was on the roost!

This was big—a normal hen behavior. And when I rattled her feeder, she actually came out of the coop and ate a little!

Today, I saw her out in her yard. This was really big! Of course, ever hopeful, I checked the nest. No eggs. If laying is indeed in her future, she probably has to regroup and eat for a few days before laying restarts.

Still, Miss Broody really has turned the corner—even if she's not laying eggs, she's come back to life!

For more about hens, broody and otherwise, I hope you’ll check out my past posts!

Copyright: Susan Colleen Browne

Photo credit: John F. Browne