The Day Waffles Moved Out

By Linda Patton ~July 10, 2015

My least favorite part about raising chickens comes when the mothers wean their chicks. She suddenly decides that they can candle life on their own. They go from snuggling under her numerous times a day, to finding food and sleeping on their own. This creates an uproar in the chicken house. In order to wean them, the mother pecks them away from her. For some reason, the other hens decide they should help with this and proceed to run them off from the food, the roosts, and everywhere else they take a notion to be. The babies peep and cry. My heart breaks as I see their little worried looks.

The second worst part comes when the rooster decides he is a man. If other roosters live in the flock, the power struggle begins. Size usually makes the decision on who will be the boss, although putting up a good bluff will win a lot of battles. And then there is the matter of the hens. They have no intention of becoming a wife. If the rooster learns to patiently woo the hens by feeding them and dancing for them, the process goes smoothly. If they chase them all over and force them to submit, the entire barnyard suffers.

Today I learned a valuable lesson. I feel every pain a chicken could possibly feel, whether they do or not. We have a rooster we call Waffles who turned 5 months old the last of June, and has already grown larger than all of the hens. This put the smaller girls in danger so I decided to move him away for their sakes. I carried him and Shadow, a hen the same age and breed, to a new part of the yard, where they have their own little jungle and house. Chickens move easier at night, once they go to sleep, it relaxes them and makes it easier to adjust to their new surroundings. They awake already knowing that they have someplace safe to sleep. Most of a chicken’s worry is finding where they will be safe. Since they see very little at night, they have nothing better to do but sleep. This also makes a chicken more susceptible to predators. They never see them coming.

Following the rules, I moved them late in the evening. I opened their door this morning, but they did not come out. I fed them, encouraged them, and coaxed them only to finally leave them alone to run my errands, and let them explore on their own.  Much to my surprise, when I returned in midafternoon, those poor birds still sat on that roost. They had not eaten, or had anything to drink all day. I crawled in and pulled out Shadow. She squalled, scaring poor Waffles half to death. I pushed her towards the chicken door. She immediately perked up with delight. The new place was like a beautiful jungle compared to where they had been raised. He followed her out without any help from me. I left them alone in order let them find their way, checking on them throughout the day.  

My emotions reeled at the thought of how they must be feeling. Snatched from the only home they have known and moved to someplace unlike anything they have seen before, they have no idea what to do. After hours of heart wrenching worry, it finally occurred to me. As a toddler, my son disliked going any place new. He didn’t like being around many people, and people he didn’t know petrified him. Keeping him involved in everything made it easier for him to accept new things. If I did my best to give my child every opportunity to overcome his fears, then maybe I should consider this course of action for Waffles as well. I know that he has everything he needs. Food, shelter, protection, and even a hen. It will take a few days, but he will be a better rooster for it in the long run. And I have learned something new – how to cope with chicken empathy.