Our Chicken Experiment:
A Failed Success
This is a story about the end of an experiment, an experiment that had been going relatively well until something got hungry, wildly hungry. Back in April we purchased six, four month old chickens from a nearby farm vendor.
The kids were excited from the very start, treating our girls as pets that they named, held, stroked, chased, and played with from the time they got off the bus until dinner time every single day. When we arrived home in the daylight, they would run straight to the chicken pen in the back. Isaac surprised me with how comfortable he felt holding from day one. When they were initially jumpy and scratched he persisited. He manhandled their little faces to show us the intricacies of their little beaks, learned to toss them over the fence and watch them "fly" and even took some turns cleaning up chicken poop.

Georgie just loved being near them. She also carried them around but she seemed mostly to love involving them in her fantasy farm land, showing them off to friends and harvesting their eggs. She was the first one to the pen in the morning (6:30am sometimes people!) and the pen was the place we called her in from at dinner time. She had her favorites and knew them all by name. Her hen was named Shelly. The chicken named, Softee, pooped on her friend once and she says she never cared to carry her again! Softee had been deemed a pooper!
(these are not actually our chickens...but my friend Daniela's. But I wanted pictures to make it more interesing;)
Juliet terrified the poor lady beasts but not because she didn't love them. She grabbed them by their feathers, by the neck, the feet, anything she could get a hold of when she wanted to hold them and they ran from her, oh how they ran! And when one of us was around to place one in her arms it would usually scratch her by accident and she would immediately drop it flat on its face or its belly. She asked me 3-4 times a day to take her out to administer this little treatment to her beloved chickens;)
The kids and I took to watching their pre-laying behavior on a few Saturday mornings and laughing our heads off. They get this frantic running and squawking thing going on, running back and forth from one end of the pen to the other. They raise their poofy butts higher in the air, put their head down with crazy determination and RUN! And, of course, because of their wide set, shortish legs it all happens with a waddle. It's hilarious! The kids loved it! (and so did I...:( And when they are done laying, they come out from whatever place they've chosen for privacy, squawking over and over again with their head held high and proud, telling the world what they just did. It's really, really cool to watch!
While We Were Away
So, anywho, onto their sad, sad end. When we returned from Lake Garda and went immediately to check on the chickens we saw the feathers...feathers, feathers everywhere. (there was not a bone or a bloody gut in sight...the sucker had eaten EVERYTHING!) Within seconds our neighbor, Aldo, who had been checking on them while we were away, came to tell us that two of our hens had been eaten by "un Volpe"(fox). Gasp!! Georgie buried her little head into my stomach and cried;( Overall the kids handled it better than I would have expected. But we all felt sad, disappointed and unsettled. Aldo told us that the fox would be back that night and that we should be sure to lock them in the coop (something we hadn't been doing) and maybe place a few rocks in front of the door to secure it. With crossed fingers, we did as he instructed.

The Second Night
I stayed up late that night, peering out the upstairs bathroom window to check on the hens. At 11:30pm I heard it breathing....heavy, heavy, loud breathing that sounded just like a gigantic pig. I went for a flashlight and shined it out there. I couldn't see anything but I was sure that it saw my light and went away because the breathing sound disappeared. Confident that pigs only ate vegetables and worms I kept trying to wrap my brain around how a fox could possibly make that kind of a noise, or maybe it was a wolf? I spent at least an hour on google trying to find out what kind of predators lived in Northern Italy. I read articles about the reintroducing of wolves and bears into Slovenia in 2002, I read about bear sightings near Belluna and Udine and I figured that, as wild as that sounds, it could have been a bear. When we awoke in the morning we found our 4 remaining hens had laid 2 brown eggs and were alive and well. But the big tub we'd had full of chicken feed (with a secure lid on it) had been busted into 3 pieces and all the food was gone! We ruled out a fox...20 pound foxes can't break plastic tubs! But whatever it was didn't get at our chickens so we felt a little relief.
But not enough to sleep soundly the following night. I awoke 2 times before I was finally awoken at 2am by the screaming of chickens. I will never forget that sound. Hearing something die did not sit well with me...I could never be a hunter or slaughter my own food, this I now know! I was shaking all over and I still hear that sound in my head sometimes! I grabbed the flashlight, ran down to the bottom floor and stood at the back door. I heard the beast through the door, chomping and breathing and ripping and chomping and blahhhh!! There was a part of me that figured, "the job has been started, let the beast finish or else I'll be cleaning up half eaten chicken guts...eeeewwww!!" But the curiosity got the better of my fear and my disgust and I wondered if maybe he'd only gotten to one hen. Maybe I could save the other 3. I opened the door and walked out. I heard it still, breathing and chomping but I couldn't see it. I shined the flashlight toward the pen. I saw not even a shadow. The breathing stopped. It growled at me in the lowest and deepest of animal growls. In that moment I became convinced it was a bear. I stood for a few more seconds that felt like minutes, stepped out a bit more, hoping that I had gained enough weight while in Europe to scare it away and then returned inside to wait for the morning. I spent the next two hours searching google, yet again, for the possibility of bears in our area. The sounds had convinced me but bears? here? I knew any Italian I knew would deem me crazy if I told them what I believed.
As It Turns Out, It Was A Cingiale (Wild Boar)
Georgie woke up early the next morning and, after a peak out the window, came to my room. "Did you see the chickens?" She had seen that the chair and rock we had placed in front of the coop door had been turned over and the door itself had been ripped at the corner seams. There were no chickens running about. All of them had been killed and eaten. In someways it was a relief. The whole event, from beginning to end, had felt more unsettling to me than I ever imagined chicken death would, mostly because I felt helpless as to what to do to save them. For the 2 days that we waited and stressed and discussed possible prevention I just felt terribly out of control to be able to protect something that I was in charge of. To worry about them every night for the next two years because of our inadequate pen and coop that we weren't willing to sink more money into felt like a bit of a nightmare! I finally mustered the guts to go out to the pen around 10am. It wasn't as bad as I had expected. There were, of course, feathers, everywhere but for a slaughtering-of-4-animals-in-the-night it was a remarkably clean job. I found two little bloody hearts (how ironic:(!!) a foot and one or two other gutsy spots but all in all it was mostly feathers. I began looking for proof that the animal was a bear. After looking around it became obvious that it had entered from under the crappy fence that Joey and I had put up (we thought we did a good job but it has slowly come unraveled and loose at the top and bottom). I felt sure that a bear couldn't fit under the fence, so, my first hypothesis was surely wrong. I found a chunk of really course hair on the fence that looked like it could have come from a fox or a wild boar. So, again I returned to google, and there I made a discovery that made it all make sense: Wild boars are indiscriminate eaters. They'll eat anything, including chickens. We have seen evidences of a wild boar all over ours and our neighbors yard and we have seen one walking across the road when we came home late one night. I listened to wild boar sounds on youtube and the sounds all matched up. It was a Cingiale.
In the end, we deem it a failed success. On the short term our excitement over egg hunting and chicken ownership lasted for only 2 short months. Six animals that we were responsible for died. All that work, the hope, the anticipation...we are still so disappointed!! But on the long term we tried it, we learned a lot and we know that we enjoy chicken owning! We know that in the future, more time and more money need to go into our final, safe and secure coop. And we know that as we plan for that endeavor, because of our positive experiences here, it is worth it to us. In the meantime we'll join the ranks of countless others who buy their eggs from the grocery store...cue Charlie Brown music...wah, wah, wah!
xoxo
Ashley
p.s. And now we have a bunny!! Best pet every!!