Our first bantam hen was a Japanese black-tail silky. Barely bigger than a pigeon, she had all the typical traits of a banty: she was diminutive she was skittish; she laid eggs that were smaller than a ping-pong ball; and she wanted to be a mommy. Due to her size and visibility, she was also vulnerable to hawk attacks. I rescued her mid-attack one time. The second time, all I found of her was a pile of white downy feathers. But that’s another story…We had gone away for a couple weeks and left Amy’s mother in charge of the kids and the chickens. She had grown up around chickens all her life in Malaysia. So, we were confident that she could handle the job. Our only fear was that one or two of them might end up on the dinner table. We made it quite clear, before we left, that that was a no-no.
When we came back from our trip, she seemed a bit anxious. She conferred with Amy in Chinese. When they were done, Amy looked at me and said, “The banty is gone.”
I interrogated the old lady through my interpreter, who, all the while, was defensive and losing patience with me. The chicken had only been gone for a few days. No, she had not searched the neighbors’ yards – she was afraid to. No, she had not slaughtered the chicken for soup. I was upset that no effort had been made to find her. I went out and searched, but found nothing. I resigned myself to the idea that the banty was gone. Grandma stared out the window at Chickenland. I went off to sulk.
The next day we both went to work and left the old lady in charge. When I came home she was excited enough to try her broken English on me. “Chicken come home, eat, go,” she said.
I was incredulous. When Amy came home, once again, I used her services as an interpreter to grill Grandma. I had understood her correctly. She was claiming that the banty had magically appeared in the backyard, eaten, and left again. I resumed my search to no avail.
This went on for several more days, with Grandma claiming to have sighted the chicken and then lost it again. I had come to I believe her. But, I was really puzzled. What was going on?
Finally, it was the weekend. I resolved to solve the mystery. I went out to the backyard and did a thorough study of the layout. I noticed that there was a space of about 2-3 inches under the coop. Could she fit under there? Maybe she was having trouble with the other chickens in the coop and had decided to reside elsewhere.
I got the jack out of the car and positioned it under the coop. I asked Amy to join me with a flashlight. When I got it jacked up high enough, she shined the light under there and found our little disappearing artist, nesting with her wings spread as wide as she could. Amy got a broom and chased her off the nest, which she defended angrily. She came out in a huff, strutting and scolding us, her feathers all puffed up. The other chickens gave her a wide birth, even though they were three times her size. Anyone that got too close got chased.
In her nest, we found two dozen tiny eggs. Many of them had gone bad. None of them had ever had a chance of hatching, because we do not have a rooster. We scooped them out and discarded them, and I blocked off the hole she had been using to get under the coop. She was mad for the next couple days, but eventually came around and started laying again.
This was our first experience with a chicken going broody. We would have many more. It always seems to be the banty hens that want to sit on eggs; their own, or others. They have the reputation of being good brooders and good mothers. This can be a good thing if you have fertile eggs you want hatched out. But if you don’t, broody behavior is disruptive to the entire flock, and makes it difficult to retrieve eggs from the coop. A broody hen will stop laying, herself, and sit on all the eggs that have been laid by the others for the day. When you try to get them out from under her, she will growl at you like a dog and peck at your hand. If you let her stay on the eggs, they will rot. So, you have to chase her out of the nesting box every time you go for eggs. She will come out fighting mad and chase the rest of the chickens around the yard. Eventually, she will find more eggs to sit on and start all over again. If unchecked, this will go on for weeks.
It is not surprising that a number of remedies have been contrived over the centuries of raising domestic chickens. Frankly, all of them are laughable. One suggestion we found on the internet is to slip a bowl of ice cubes under the chicken, in place of the eggs. My stepson liked that one and insisted on trying it. But I thought it was cruel and put an end to it after just a few hours.
My personal preference is to separate the chicken from the flock for a couple weeks. This is a pain in the neck, because it requires you to create a separate fenced-off area and have some kind of safe enclosure for her to sleep in at night. I have mentioned my standby doghouse in previous articles. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to use it. I also keep rolls of chicken wire handy. This method also has a cruel side to it, as the banished chicken will pace the fence line longing to be reunited with the flock. Don’t give in, no matter how much she complains!
Pictured in a nesting box is our Belgian Bearded D'Uccle Mille Fleur hen that regularly goes broody. Click on photo to enlarge.
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