mortality
7 stories filed under mortality on Alektorophobia. The newest of them: “That Mystery Egg Has Us Clucking: and Worrying: Right Along With You”, “Our Heart Breaks: A Feathered Friend's Egg-ceedingly Sad Farewell”, and “Cruella's lone survivor gets a feathered second chance at flock life.”. So you've got a mystery egg, and instead of feeling egg-cited, you're feeling… well, terrified. There's no gentle way to say this: sometimes our feathered friends leave us brokenhearted in a single, brutal moment. Chickens. Everything there is to know about chickens and the fear of them. The list below is every mortality story on Alektorophobia, newest first.
That Mystery Egg Has Us Clucking: and Worrying: Right Along With You
So you've got a mystery egg, and instead of feeling egg-cited, you're feeling… well, terrified. I get it. That weird, rubbery lump isn't exactly a normal morning haul, and not knowing which feathered friend left it behind is the worst kind of fowl play. The good news? You're not alone in this cluck-ward moment. That lash egg is certainly alarming, but it doesn't automatically mean a death sentence for your whole flock. It's a sign something is up, not a final goodbye. For a deeper dive into similar scares, check out our piece on "Giant lash egg and a massive belly: time for a tough cluck-cision." We're worrying right along with you, one nervous cluck at a time.
Our Heart Breaks: A Feathered Friend's Egg-ceedingly Sad Farewell
There's no gentle way to say this: sometimes our feathered friends leave us brokenhearted in a single, brutal moment. This morning, one of my girls laid an egg that was simply too large for her system, and by the time I found her, the damage was done. A trail of blood led from the run back into the coop, and despite my best efforts, I can't shake the feeling that I should have been faster, smarter, or just... there. It's a stark reminder that even with careful lock-ups and watchful eyes, nature has its own fowl play in store. We do everything we can, but sometimes, we're left holding nothing but questions.
Cruella's lone survivor gets a feathered second chance at flock life.
Well, color me cluck-struck. Cruella the hen decided her cold-water baths were just a spa day, not a hint, so her humans gave in and let her sit on six eggs. It was a fowl tragedy when only one chick survived; her coopmates got a bit too territorial. That lone little survivor is one tough cookie, and I'm rooting for her. The humans, feeling bad, introduced a few new feathered friends, and wouldn't you know it, Cruella adopted them without a single peck of protest. It's a wild ride, and while I admire the dedication, I'm with the owner on this one: never again with the broodiness! For more feathery fiascos, check out "Chickens Got Her Good! A Backyard Poultry Adventure."
Oviduct Woes and Ugly Hens: Three Losses Too Many
Well, today just plain sucks. We lost another hen to her own reproductive system, and it's the third one. The vet said there was nothing we could do; it's the hazard of being a hen. I clean their shed daily, I'm on top of supplements and vet visits, and I track their laying like a hawk. But I can't out-clean a broken egg inside her body. We bred them to lay this much, and it's killing them. That's the maddening part. I know tomorrow I'll be back at it, doing my best for our feathered friends. But today? I'm just angry. It feels like fowl play, and not the fun kind.
Losing a feathered friend in the heat is the fowlest heartbreak.
Losing one of your feathered friends to the heat is a special kind of heartbreak, and I'm so sorry you're navigating those big feelings while stuck at work. It's brutal to have to hold it together for the public when your poor little toddler was so distraught, and you're left with an empty space in the coop. They're never just chickens, are they? They're family. For the brutal 105-degree days ahead, you're already doing the right things with the fan and shade, but consider freezing water bottles to place near their roosting spots, and swap their water for chilled, electrolyte-rich options a few times a day. It won't fix the grief, but it might help the remaining five weather the wave.
Broody Hen Surprises Us All: And My Heart Can't Take It
Oh, the suspense of a broody hen is enough to make anyone cluck with anxiety. First off, breathe. You're not alone in this feather-fluffed frenzy. That first loss is heartbreaking, especially when you're left guessing if it was the membrane or the chill. For the current batch, resist the urge to fuss. A broody hen usually knows her business; spritzing can actually mess with the humidity balance she's already managing. Leave her be unless a chick is clearly stuck after 24 hours and even then, go in gently. Your worry shows you care, which is half the battle. For a little extra comfort during this nail-biter, our piece on "Chickens Got Her Good! A Backyard Poultry Adventure" might offer a chuckle.
When a Hen Goes Silent: A Heartbreaking Goodbye to Our Feathered Friend
Oh, my heart. I'm so sorry you had to wake up to that. It sounds like you did everything right: the heat lamp, the bedside vigil, the desperate offer of water. And still, she slipped away. That's the cruelest part, isn't it? When they're fine one minute and gone the next, no warning, no injury, just a quiet, bloody exit. The blood near her mouth is the clue I can't shake. That's not a fall. That's internal, and it's fast. Yes, she might have eaten something toxic, especially if she was the great escape artist of the backyard. But honestly, it could also be a sudden heart issue or a ruptured vessel. You're not alone in this frantic guessing game.