DINO

(Short for dinosaur)

Almost two years ago we bought home an odd looking creature. We were assured that she was indeed a chicken, but what a strange looking chicken, all legs and neck! She was a Malay Game hen, and we got her because she was different. Kama and I both enjoy things that are unusual or uncommon.

And so it was that our "Dino Chook" came to join our flock.

We had hoped that she would become the friendliest of our chickens, perhaps even our pet. That seemed unlikely from the outset as she didn't much like to be caught. If you could catch her though, she could be carried around without protest, but she would never volunteer for those cuddles. She was quite timid, even a little scared of the other hens, so she tended to get pushed back when yummy treats were offered. She always seemed to be the "loner" of the group. Eventually becoming the largest of our hens never did help her ascend the social ladder they call "the chicken pecking order". So there she remained, on the fringes of the flock, as it were.

Prolific laying is not in a Malay Games genetic code, that was blatantly obvious, yet oddly enough, the drive to be a mother, is. I've never seen another hen so difficult to break from broodiness. So many times we had to lock her in a small, uncomfortable cage, for weeks at a time, just so she would go back to being a normal chicken. I sometimes wondered how a person could love an animal with such annoying traits, yet there she was, burrowed into our hearts as a part of the family.

Earlier this year, soon after our move, while our chickens housing was less than ideal, she decided to try to brood an egg in the mud and the muck beneath the flocks night time roost. Not really a healthy place for a prospective mother, but as usual, she was determined, if not very discerning of location. By the time we forcibly removed her, she had developed an infection in one eye, half of her head swelling like a balloon. Comfortable accommodations were prepared in her, now familiar, little cage, and we waited to see how she progressed.

I was a little surprised, and relieved, to see the swelling subside quite quickly, although I'm certain her eye was damaged as she never appeared to regain much vision on that side. Once we felt all danger had passed, Dino was reintroduced to the flock. All was well in chicken land again.

But the honeymoon was short.

She was found one afternoon, cowering in a corner, covered in blood. A closer look showed that, among numerous other injuries, almost all the skin from the top of her head had been torn off.

The flock had turned on her in a big way

I don't know a whole lot about the chicken hierarchy and how their social structure is managed, but I do know that this was more than just the normal sorting of the pecking order. We surmised that it could be due to her injured eye, that the flock decided to be rid of her before she attracted a predator, but we'll never know.

Although our beloved Dino Chook, after a period of maybe 2 months, had made a miraculous physical recovery, she was never quite the same again. She became, understandably, fearful of other chickens. She was reluctant to forage, preferring to sit in a corner, or someplace she could go undetected.

We made a second attempt to reintegrate her into the flock, but within the fortnight they had turned on her again. We had already agonised over what course of action we would take should this occur. We thought about just leaving her to free range on her own, but the local foxes would have ensured that she suffered a frightening death in the middle of the night. Leaving her locked up alone, we felt, would have been a miserable existence for a flock animal. This left us with only one way for this story to go.

It was a difficult goodbye to a soul who seemed like she had been with us forever.

To look an animal in the eye and apologize for what has happened, and for what is about to happen, is a very difficult thing. When that animal has moved beyond being utilitarian, has shown you their unique personality, and has endeared themselves to you, well, it's utterly heartbreaking.