Poppylicious

Poppy and Gloria, after the fox

My gorgeous, gorgeous Poppy died yesterday.  She was 13 years and 4 months old.

 She arrived as a fertilised egg from Castle Farm, and was a Welsh Black which is an Indian Game x Australorp cross.  She had the best characteristics from both breeds, including a stunning sheen on her soft inky blank feathers,  high intelligence, and a calm nature. 

 

In 1992 we had a hugely successful hatch of a number of breeds.   Poppy She was one of 8 females hatched from 12 Welsh Black eggs, the others were boys.    The lines from Castle Farm were super strong and resilient, and many of the girls lived to an excellent age (several of them over 10)

Poppy reached the oldest age we've ever had, and we've been so very lucky.

Poppy & the pre-fox girls

Poppy was such a bright and clever hen.  As a youngster, I took her and my beautiful exchequer leghorn Lotti Borlotti, to Miss Teen's school. She was very well handled at that age, and put up with it (although  she didn't seek it out).   

She was the sole survivor of a fox attack when she was 3? years old.   We brought one of her sisters, Gloria (who also lived to a great age),  back from the allotment to keep her company. 

 

She was a G'zunder.  Her preferred method of escaping from the netted area was to go under the netting (compared to, say, Fay's flying over the top).  If she was out, we had to walk along the fencing, looking for the tiniest of unpegged gaps.

She started slowing down a couple of years ago.  I'd been making sure to seek her out to give her treats for a couple of years now, I think, and I've been surprised for the last 2 winters that she's survived the moult and the spring.

It's been the last 6 months that/'s she slowed even further, and  I'd been fully expecting her to go for all that time.  She had lost a lot of weight, but was still alert and interested, eating well.    During this time I'd got into the habit of sectioning her off in the evening, so she could have her own private supply of food a and treats before bed, without having the others come and steal it. 

For the last month or so, I've also been giving her some additional protein each morning, hand feeding her live mealworms, or a boiled egg boiled specifically for her, or some rinsed tuna, or whatever.   She always eats well, and seeks out the food if I put it on the ground.

For the last couple of weeks, she's taken a bit longer to eat, stopping for a break part way through.  At treat time, whenever that was, she learned not to run after food that I'd thrown for the others, as I always kept some in my had to offer her while the others were otherwise engaged.

I've known that her death was imminent. and each day that she was there was a lovely surprise,.  

Yesterday when I went in to the run first thing, I found her lying on her side  the floor.  I thought she'd had a stroke, or maybe fallen off the ladder and broken her leg.  I gave her some mealworms (they provide hydration as well as protein), which she ate with gusto.  That gave me hope, and I then picked her up carefully and foundn that she hadn't damaged anything. I imagine she fell - or was knocked - over, and was just unable to get up.  

I stood her upright, put a bowl of live mealworms down and a lettuce next to it, and shut the gate into that section of the run so she could get herself sorted in peace.  

 A bit later on, she had had walked to the closed gate  so I went and opened it and let her outside.    I thought about bringing her inside, but I realised that this might be the end, and I didn't want her last day to be any more stressful than it needed to be. She walked down the garden path to the pampas, and sat with the others.  They spent all day in that area, and there was always someone at her side. 

In the evening, they all went into the run, and the others went to bed.  She couldn't climb the ladder, so I picked her up and popped her gently in the coop.  

This morning, worried about her getting knocked over in the door dash,   I got up before the auto opener activated.  I opened up the back of the coop to avoid a mad crush, and I saw immediately that she'd died.

I'd known it was coming, of course, but it was still a horrible shock. I'd begun to think she was going to live forever. 

I'm relieved that she went quickly, without us having to intervene.  I'm happy that she was eating her favourite foods yesterday and she that she spent her last day in her favourite place with her friends and frenemies around her.   

I am full of sadness and loss.  Mostly, it's the loss of my lovely, lovely girl.  But it's also the end of a chapter, and it's brought many memories flooding back:  

 Those 8 Welsh Black Girls were part of the largest hatch we'd ever done, and we were lucky to be blessed with many many girls that year.  Poppy was the one that I chose to live here in the garden, the other 7 went to the Allotment and we had many subsequent hatches from them all. 

... the memory of the horror of the fox attack,  which was even more vivid today as I was looking for photos of Poppy in her youth.   

....I've been thinking about Poppy's sisters,  the Allotmenteers,  and what a huge part of our life that all was, and the other Welsh Black ladies and their offspring.    They were amazing birds, and I am immensely grateful to David from Castle Farm and the skill and dedication he had in producing such hardy and sturdy birds, and such fantastic fertilised eggs.

I'm so very lucky to have had Poppy.

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