So I think I have a zombie chicken…

Posted On May 28, 2019

You may remember the story of the chicken who lived, waltzing back into the yard after my son and husband saw a fox carry her off. She’s been at it again.

Hedwig seemed no worse for her experience with the fox, though halfway through the winter she started having difficulty laying. Her eggs were rare and extremely fragile. She’s our only green egg layer so it was easy to tell she was the one who was struggling. We treated with extra vitamins and calcium and she seemed to be rallying this spring when she was able to free range again.

A little over a week ago, the girls were out free ranging while my husband did yard work and our giant beast dog patrolled the yard. When I went to put them in a few hours later, Hedwig was nowhere to be found. We figured she must have been snagged by a hawk, or that she had been sicker than we thought and so had wandered off to die. We didn’t give it much more thought.

Today I pulled in the driveway to see that something had torn up the front yard and an empty metal planter had been flipped over. I could see black chicken feathers scattered around and thought that something had somehow gotten into the coop. I ran to the coop to find everyone safe and sound.

Bewildered, I made my way back up to the front yard. The dig was significant and there were droppings of some kind from whatever had done it. The feathers definitely were definitely chicken feathers and there didn’t seem to be enough for a kill.

I used a foot to flip over the planter and something black shot out from underneath without a sound. Standing in front of me, again looking hardly worse for the wear with the exception of a broken tip to her beak, was Hedwig. It was undoubtedly her with her little white flecks around her head. She was super skittish and ran straight for the coop when I tried to pick her up.

You would think that the girls would be happy to have their flock mate back. No such thing.

Kiki, the scrappy little brown leghorn who used to charge the rooster, immediately flipped out, puffed up to twice her size and tried to chase her out. Buffy the Buff Orpington immediately hid in her nesting box and Olympe, Hedwig’s sister, just ran around screaming.

Despite the less than warm reception, Hedwig refused to let me catch her to put her in her own recovery cage. I was worried about her at first. Then I remembered that I was talking about a chicken who had survived a fox, been on her own for over a week, and somehow barricaded herself under a planter to escape another predator.

I think she can manage to reassert herself in the pecking order.

PS. We’re thinking of renaming her Rasputin.