chickens
Alektorophobia keeps chickens in one place: 3823 stories so far. The section currently leads with “When a bad eye gets worse, saline might be fowl play in disguise”, “Our roosters are clucking nice, but two are causing fowl food drama”, and “When your hen is rooster-sized but won't crow, it's fowl play at its finest”. Oh, a bad eye that's getting worse despite your best efforts, that's the kind of fowl play that really ruffles your feathers. Oh, Oliver and Norm, you absolute fowl bullies! Chickens. Everything there is to know about chickens and the fear of them. The list below is every chickens story on Alektorophobia, newest first.
When a bad eye gets worse, saline might be fowl play in disguise
Oh, a bad eye that's getting worse despite your best efforts, that's the kind of fowl play that really ruffles your feathers. This poor hen has been your favorite since earlier this year, and she was doing great until this month. Now her eye looks significantly worse from October 1st to today, and you've been dutifully flushing it with saline to clear out dirt. But here's the cluck-tastic twist: I'm worried the saline itself might be making things worse. It doesn't seem to slow her down, but you can tell it bothers her. When you care this much about a feathered friend, you want her happy and healthy.
Our roosters are clucking nice, but two are causing fowl food drama
Oh, Oliver and Norm, you absolute fowl bullies! I love my feathered friends, but sometimes they really ruffle my feathers with this kind of drama. You've got 70 chickens, six roosters, four food spots, and a full-blown pecking order crisis on your hands. The two sweetest old boys, Maple and Elvis, are getting chased off their breakfast by the younger troublemakers, and it breaks my heart. Moving them to the garden for a peaceful forage break was a cluck-tastic idea. Honestly, separate fenced areas sound like the way to go here. They deserve their own little bromance sanctuary without the stress.
When your hen is rooster-sized but won't crow, it's fowl play at its finest
Cluck-tastic mystery unfolding in your coop! A hen that's rooster-sized, red-combed early, but refuses to crow? That's some serious fowl play. At 18 weeks, your Lavender Ameraucana is keeping us all guessing. You've got one obvious rooster, two smaller hens, and then this giant enigma. It's like she's chickening out of her destiny. Sometimes, a late-blooming hen can just be built differently, but the early red comb is suspicious. She might be a late-crowing rooster, or a very dominant hen who thinks she's the boss. Either way, she's definitely egg-citing. For more on unexpected chicken health quirks, check out our piece on "When a bad eye gets worse, saline might be fowl play in disguise." Keep us posted on her first vocal attempt!
When Should You Heat the Coop for Your Fluffy Rhode Island Reds?
Oh, the classic fluffy chicken conundrum! Your Rhode Island Reds sound like absolute cluck-tastic little ladies, and I totally get the worry. Here's the thing, those feathers are basically nature's puffy jackets. Most healthy, fully-feathered breeds like yours can handle temps dipping into the 20s or even teens without supplemental heat, so upper 40s are a walk in the park for them. The real danger with heat lamps is actually the fire risk and the fact that it can mess with their natural cold-hardiness. As for egg production? You're right, winter slowdown is real and totally normal. Shorter days signal their bodies to take a break. If you want to keep the eggs coming, a little supplemental light can help, but honestly?
Molting has my favorite feathered friend looking like one grouchy Butterball
Poor Butterball. Molting season is rough, and my favorite feathered friend is making it known with one seriously grouchy glare. I managed to snag a few decent photos of her despite the attitude, but she's looking like a real life Butterball turkey right now, all puffed up and none too pleased about it. It's a cluck-tastic reminder that even our prettiest hens go through an ugly phase. The whole ordeal has me feeling nostalgic, too. I still miss Butterbaby something fierce. If you're dealing with your own flock's molt madness, check out our piece on "The Great Chick Identification Challenge: Hens or Roosters" for a lighter distraction.
The Rooster Next Door: My Orphan Chick's Secret Fowl Family
I love my feathered friends, but I also know they can be a little... mysterious. So when I saw a rooster with the exact same plumage as my little orphan chick, I didn't cluck it up to coincidence. The Rooster Next Door: My Orphan Chick's Secret Fowl Family finally gives a name to the heartbreak. My neighbor's free-roaming small breed apparently hatches chicks without him even knowing, and the poor little guys end up lost, eaten by cats, or worse. Seeing that rooster was the only explanation that made sense. It's a fowl play of fate. For another tale of feathered surprises, check out our story on "When a sweet rooster claims your lap for his dustbath, you just let him."
Billy Bob the rooster proved chickens can save your life too
We never expected a rooster to be our guardian, but Billy Bob proved chickens can save your life too. Just under a year ago, we had to put him to sleep, and we miss him every single day. The bond between a rooster and his humans is something special, we were full-fledged members of HIS flock, and without him, a bird of prey would probably have snatched us up long ago. That's not fowl play; that's genuine loyalty. It makes you rethink who's really watching out for who. For another tale of unexpected chicken connections, check out "When a sweet rooster claims your lap for his dustbath, you just let him." Rest in peace, Billy Bob. You were one cluck-tastic protector.
My hen came back from vacation with a black comb: should I panic
Oh, a black comb on just one side? That's enough to make anyone do a double-take and maybe chickening out on the whole chicken-keeping gig for a second. First, take a deep breath, this isn't necessarily a cluck-tastrophe. A black comb can be a sign of frostbite, a pecking injury, or even just a little fowl play from a flockmate. Since the other side looks normal, it's likely localized trauma rather than a systemic illness. Keep an eye on her appetite and energy levels, and if she's still acting like her usual feathered friend, she's probably fine. For a deeper dive into mysterious chicken ailments, our "Speckled Egg Mystery" piece might ruffle your curiosity in a good way.
Egg-citing or egg-stremely concerning: help us crack this fertilized mystery
Oh, the eternal question: is that egg going to hatch into a tiny terror or a tasty breakfast? You've got a fertilized mystery on your hands, and honestly, I'm with you, I'm pretty sure the answer is yes, but I'd want a second opinion too. There's nothing quite like the cluck-tastic suspense of waiting to see if you're about to become a chicken parent or just a regular egg-haver. It's egg-citing and egg-stremely concerning all at once. If you're still chickening out on the verdict, our story on "When your favorite chick turns out to be a rooster, you learn the cluck-tastic hard way" might make you feel better about whatever surprises hatch.
Keys? I'm still trying to find where I left my last shred of courage
Keys? I'm still trying to find where I left my last shred of courage. That title speaks to my soul, and probably to yours, too, if you've ever stood in a coop wondering who's really in charge. It's not the eggs or the feed that gets you; it's the judgmental stare from a hen who knows you're chickening out. We get it. You're brave for showing up, even if your knees are knocking. For more on puzzling poultry moments, check out our piece on "My hen came back from vacation with a black comb: should I panic." Because when it comes to feathered friends, the drama never ends, and neither does our love for them.
When your favorite chick turns out to be a rooster, you learn the cluck-tastic hard way
Never choose a favorite chick. They will either get sick or be a rooster, and this Redditor learned that lesson the cluck-tastic hard way. After posting a few weeks ago asking for a gender check, confirmation has arrived: that fluffy favorite is a roo. He's crowing (though sparingly, because the big boy rooster is not a fan) and has been caught trying to mount the hens. It's the ultimate fowl play. We feel this pain deeply. For more relatable chicken drama, check out "My hen came back from vacation with a black comb: should I panic", because apparently, our feathered friends love keeping us on our toes.
Feathered friends got fleas? Don't chicken out: we've got the cluck-tastic scoop
So your feathered friends have fleas? Don't chicken out, we've got the cluck-tastic scoop. It's a fowl situation, sure, but nothing a little know-how can't fix. I've been there, staring at my own flock with that panicky "what now?" feeling. But here's the thing: treating chicken mites doesn't have to be intimidating. We're keeping it light, practical, and a little bit punny because honestly, if you can't laugh while wrestling a grumpy hen for a dust bath, you're doing it wrong. And if you're suddenly questioning your hen's identity too, check out "When your gorgeous hen turns out to be a handsome rooster, the love stays the same", because this flock drama never ends.
My hen's comb looks like a crusty science experiment: what is this
Oh, a crusty science experiment of a comb, been there, and it's about as unsettling as finding a surprise egg in your shoe. Your Sapphire Gem's comb going from yellow-ish spots to black crusty bumps sounds like a fowl mystery that needs more than a Google deep-dive. You're smart to suspect pecking at first, but the spread to a second hen suggests something else is clucking around. Fowl pox is a strong possibility, and that would mean quarantine for both girls to stop the spread. I've seen this play out, and the "it could be this" rabbit hole is real.
Speckled Egg Mystery: My Barred Rock Is Leaving Me Clueless
Well, here's an egg-citing mystery that's really ruffling some feathers. A first-time flock keeper has four eggs daily from seven hens, but that fourth egg is a real head-scratcher. The Barred Rock is acting suspicious around the nest box, yet her eggs have always been speckle-free. Meanwhile, the Olive Egger should be laying green or blue, not light brown with speckles. But here's the thing, chickens love a good fowl play surprise. Plymouth Barred Rocks aren't known for speckled eggs, so our money's on the Olive Egger pulling a fast one. Genetics can be cluck-tastically unpredictable.
When your gorgeous hen turns out to be a handsome rooster, the love stays the same
Oh, the eternal hen-or-rooster suspense, it's the kind of fowl play that keeps you guessing and giggling. I'm 78 percent sure my gorgeous "hen" is actually a handsome boy, but since there's been no crowing yet, I'm clinging to that 22 percent of hope like a stubborn feather. Honestly, the love hasn't budged one bit. Whether she's a she or he's a he, this bird is beautiful and staying put. Classic case of mistaken identity, my feathered friend just keeps me on my toes. If you're wrestling with a similar poultry puzzle, check out our piece on "When your hen is rooster-sized but won't crow, it's fowl play at its finest" for more cluck-tastic solidarity.
When a sweet rooster claims your lap for his dustbath, you just let him
There's something wonderfully absurd about a rooster deciding your lap is the perfect spot for a dustbath. You can't plan for that level of trust, or that level of fowl play. When a sweet boy like this one claims you as his personal spa, you just let him get on with it, even if you end up wearing half the coop. It's the kind of love-hate chicken moment that makes you laugh while questioning your life choices. For anyone who's ever been ambushed by a feathery friend mid-relaxation, this is your story.
That hoarse Hungarian capon call is a cluck-tastically dying trade
That hoarse Hungarian capon call is a cluck-tastically dying trade, and it's breaking my heart. There's a colloquialism in Hungary where a broken, hoarse voice is described as sounding like a capon, but try finding a recording of one. I looked everywhere. Nothing. Keeping capons seems to be fading into history, and we're losing a piece of fowl folklore with it. It's a weird, wonderful little tradition that deserves more than a footnote. If you're feeling nostalgic for lost chicken quirks, check out our story on a family fearing fowl play after an eight-week-old chick's morning croak. Sometimes the strangest sounds are the ones we miss most.
The Great Chick Identification Challenge: Hens or Roosters
I posted pictures of the mystery chicks my kids picked out at TSC this summer, and honestly, I'm just psyched they turned out to be hens. My buff Orpington pullets? Big red roosters. 🤣 The verdict is still out on these ladies, but I'm leaning toward Isa Browns. What do you all think? It's a cluck-tastic mystery, and I love that we're all in this together, trying to figure out who's who before they start crowing (or not). If you need a break from the suspense, check out our story on *This Clever Girl proves chickens are way smarter than we give them credit for*, it'll remind you why we put up with their fowl play in the first place.
This Clucky Chicken Tactic Is Pure Fowl Play and I'm Here for It
So, you've discovered the ultimate fowl play tactic, and honestly? I'm clucking thrilled about it. /u/Hanwolf93 is leaning hard into the love-hate chicken dynamic, and it's pure egg-citement. This isn't some dry guide, it's a mischievous strategy that embraces our feathered friends' chaotic energy. I can already hear the frantic wing-flapping and see the look of betrayal on their little faces. If you're nodding along but still a bit chicken about the execution, check out our related piece on why my rooster turned the dinner pecking order into fowl play. It's the perfect companion to this delightful madness.
Munchkin claimed the dishwasher throne and supervised the whole wash cycle
There's something truly cluck-tastic about a chicken who decides the dishwasher is the ultimate throne. Munchkin claimed that porcelain perch and supervised the entire wash cycle, for a whole hour. That's dedication to fowl play. I love a feathered friend who takes their duties so seriously, even if those duties involve judging your dish-loading skills. It's the kind of quirky behavior that makes life with chickens so egg-citing. They're full of surprises, and honestly, I'm here for it. If you're dealing with your own tiny flock mysteries, you might get a kick out of our article "Tiny garden, tiny flock: is a bantam the fowl for you." Munchkin proves that sometimes the best help comes with feathers.
A fowl-mouthed quest for cluck-tastic, organic buggy treats
Oh, a fellow chicken keeper on a noble quest for the crunchiest, most cluck-tastic buggy snacks, I respect the dedication. Peliroja77 has a small flock of eight mixed-breed hens, all layers destined for the stew pot someday, but for now they deserve the good stuff. High-quality organic feed is already on the menu, and now the hunt is on for premium organic treats like black soldier fly larvae or mealworms. This is the kind of fowl play I can get behind. It's not easy balancing top-tier nutrition with a budget, but our feathered friends are worth it.
Pollin the chicken survived Newclaste twice and never gave up clucking
There she was, legs trembling, head held high, refusing to quit. Pollin survived Newcastle disease not once, but twice. The first outbreak hit my mom's flock hard, taking many chickens. Only one rooster and nine hens pulled through, and Pollin was among them. She never let herself fall. I treated her, and she bounced back fastest. Then a second strain came. Others collapsed, couldn't lift their necks. Not Pollin. She'd wobble over to me, asking for her medicine. She fought through the headaches, and in under three days, she was fully healed. Now she follows me everywhere, lays eggs, and raises chicks. It's like she knows I helped save her. This clever girl proves chickens are way smarter than we give them credit for.
Two feathered friends in a stare-off: girls or just fowl play
Oh, the classic stare-off, feathers fluffed, eyes locked, absolutely zero blinking. It's giving *fowl play* more than a polite disagreement, if you ask me. And yes, girls can absolutely do that too! Hens have their own pecking order drama, and sometimes it looks just like a showdown between two roosters. At 12 weeks, those girl vibes are probably right, combs are still developing, and the real telltale signs (egg songs, squatting behavior) haven't kicked in yet. If you're looking for a second opinion, just remember: our feathered friends love to keep us guessing. Speaking of chicken mysteries, you might find some comfort in "Tiny invaders on your chicken's head? Let's solve this feathery mystery" for another head-scratcher.
Dolly left the coop yesterday, and our hearts feel strangely egg-shaped
Dolly left the coop yesterday, and our hearts feel strangely egg-shaped. That's the kind of cluck-tastic honesty we live for around here. We know that feeling, when a feathered friend marches off on their own adventure, leaving you with a weird mix of pride and panic. It's not easy being a chicken parent, especially when your heart suddenly resembles breakfast. If you're missing Dolly and need a distraction, you might enjoy the tale of Munchkin claiming the dishwasher throne and supervising the whole wash cycle. Sometimes the best way to heal is to laugh at another bird's bossy antics. Here's to our feathered friends, whether they're roaming free or ruling the kitchen.