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Last night, I had a dream Ruby died, that she was bullied to death by the rest of the flock. I have no idea why I had that particular dream, but I have been having a variety of anxiety dreams all week. In this dream about Ruby, I went outside, and the chickens were all in the snow and had killed Ruby. Rooster was standing back watching it all, and I was like, “Rooster, why didn’t you help?” And then I woke up.
This morning, Ron and I did final rounds of prep for the chickens and ducks. He lined the walls of the duck house with straw, and I picked up any spots of chicken poop, made sure the coop was super clean and dry, and then added nearly a whole extra bale of straw. That coop was fluffy.
When I first went out to put in the food, Ruby tried to escape through the front door as she usually does in the mornings. But I wouldn’t let her out. “Not today, Ruby,” I said. “It’s too cold today.”
She tried again when I went to get the water. I stopped her with my boot, and I could tell she was quite upset over this. I figured she was just going to have to be tough today, and I dismissed my dream, deciding I could not let an anxiety dream dictate my decision making. It was hard though when I saw her try to eat and get pecked on the head by Circe, who is Ruby’s exact age but clearly above her in the pecking order. Poor Ruby is so low on that pecking order, and I just don’t know why. Some people just never fit in, I guess.
When I finished spreading and fluffing the straw, I saw a hen with her head so far in the corner I couldn’t recognize her. She had her head down so low and cornered and was trembling. When I went to pick her up, she didn’t fuss a bit, so I was surprised to find it was poor little Ruby.
I feel this is an important side story to tell: Normally, when I pick up Ruby, she acts like she is going to certainly die. She screams and fusses. I am always and forever just trying to help her or get her put up, and I know she knows me well because she will follow me around for treats. But as soon as I touch her, she acts like it is the end of the world. I feel terrible because I am sure everyone within a mile thinks I am abusing my chickens.
Today, when I picked her up from that corner, she just put her little head on my arm and went along for the ride. She didn’t make a peep.
I took her to the garage, but even the garage was cold. I had to go back out into the cold, get a dog crate, go get more straw, fill it up, and then get it into the garage between our cars. I got her fresh food, water, scratch, and even brought her cornbread several times today. Each time, the temperature in the garage seemed okay, as did Ruby. My original plan was to put her back into the coop tonight to sleep with the flock, but Ron said, “why don’t you just let her stay in the garage tonight.” And then I told him about my dream, and we agreed that Ruby could stay in the garage for a few days until this cold spell breaks. Plus, she is just finishing her molt, so she just barely has all of her feathers back.
When I went out to check on her at bedtime to make sure she was snuggled up in her straw, she was there. So content. She talked to me in a such a sweet voice. I love that chicken. I am honestly not sure how much she is playing me or if she is just a deep feeler, which makes her seem kind of dramatic. Some people just feel everything so deeply that they come across as being melodramatic. Maybe that’s just who Ruby is. Either way, she has my heart, and I am glad to give her her way.
PS Right now, it is -16 but feels like -40. When I went out to give the ducks their bedtime peas, I couldn’t get the door latched with my gloves on. So, for just a second, I took off my glove and touched the metal latch. I have apparently been frost nipped. It hurts quite a bit, but I read it will stop hurting in a day or so. I can’t believe it happened that fast. If you’re in Maine and reading this, be safe out there. Don’t take off your gloves. And stay as cozy as you can.