Bossy Biddy met me at the door to their yard the other day, beak open, tongue hanging out, panting, “Who turned up the heat? It feels like an oven around here.”
Bossy Biddy is having a really hard time dealing with the 101 plus degree days we’ve been having. Add the heat index to that and it’s been a whopping 107 degrees. I don’t know how anyone else feels about the heat index in the summer or the wind chill factor in the winter, but I’m already feeling the temperatures and don’t need to be made to feel hotter in the summer or colder in the winter.
Back to Bossy Biddy – She’s experiencing diarrhea, losing feathers like crazy, her comb is laying down on the top of her head and she pants with a wide open beak. It’s pathetic. She hasn’t laid an egg in eight months. Being an old chicken sucks.
There’s part of me that wants to scoop her up and bring her into the house and part of me that wants to open the chicken yard door and let her out into the backyard to fend for herself. The true farmer would put her out of her misery and into the stew pot. I am not a true farmer.
I’ve been dumping some of their water, making puddles in the chicken yard so she has a cool, damp place to lie and throwing water on her every time I go out to check on them. They have shady places to be all day long. Lucy and Ethel are taking the heat in stride – still laying eggs and their panting is minimal. They don’t pay Bossy any mind – as if she doesn’t exist. I think this might be a sign.