Phyllis died during the night, She was 8 and a half years old.
Phyllis, and her twin sister Dyllis, were hatched in 2014 from one of
the Welsh Black harem girls and our gorgeous boy Henry. Unlike all
the other black offspring, they had flat ('normal') combs instead of
pea combs. She was, like her sister, large, bolshy, inquisitive and
friendly. Always pecking for attention, always tripping us up for
treats. DH liked both of them very much, because they were happy o be picked up, chatted to him, and were always trying to see what he was up to.
Dyllis died in July 2018 aged 4 and a half, and back then I thought Phyllis would probably go a year or two later.
In April 2020, Phyllis (along with all the other Allotment Girls) came to live in the garden, just after the first Lockdown started - and four hens (Blondie and Summer the leghorns, Pong the Dorking, and Sasha the Silver Appenzeller) were stolen from our allotment.
She was such a friendly girl, a big fat hen. She had a fab couple of years here, adapting easily to the new regime. She continued to be nosy, interested, bolshy, funny and, most of all, friendly. She burbled away to us all the time.
I took care to make sure I gave her extra treats, and to make sure she had time to eat, keeping the others out of her way as necessary.
Just over a month ago, she had a sharp decline. She lost a lot of weight and I thought we might have to intervene. I started a regimen of preparing a special breakfast for her, and shutting her in to the run on her own so she had time to eat it in peace.
I started to buy mealworms, so she had something extra appealing. I bought chick crumb for her, which was easier for her to eat. Then I moved on to giving her peas and sweetcorn as well. Anything that might interest her. She quickly learned the routine and would happily toddle over to wherever it was she was being shut in, of her own accord, waiting for me to open the door to let her in.,
Some days she looked quite well, others less so. She ate, she was interested in the food, and while that was the case I was happy to carry on. The writing was on the wall though, and it was obvious that she was 'on her way out'. Some days, she didn't want to eat, despite my creativity, and I thought I'd find her dead the next day. She surprised me each time by being up and about, or waiting in the coop for me to get her.
As the weather turned colder, and she was getting stiffer, I started to soak the food for her. It made it easier for her to pick it up and swallow it. We did the routine at least twice a day at this point, as I wanted to make sure she ate in the morning and had something in her crop overnight.
On some cold days, she wouldn't come out of the coop until I turned up with breakfast. On other days, she'd be out in the garden waiting, or she'd be somewhere else nibbling the grass. On the days when she wasn't out, I'd go and look in the coop expecting to find her dead. The relief I always felt on finding her sitting there, minding her own business, was immense.
However she got up, she still joined the tussle to get the afternoon treats. She held her own quite well. I always slipped her extras, and stood hand feeding her treats until she'd had enough.
She ate well yesterday.
This morning, she wasn't out with the others. I wasn't surprised as it was very cold. I called her name a few times as I walked round to the coop to collect her. There was no burble of response, and I had the usual feeling of "is it today?" as I opened the coop up. I had a look inside, and saw she was there. When I opened the back of the coop, I could see that she had gone.
I cried, a lot.
It was sadness.... but it was also relief, and an outpouring of built up tension as I've been expecting this for some time. In a funny way, I was glad it was finally here. I was glad that she'd had a happy last day. I was glad that she'd lived such a long life. I was glad that I'd spent the time I had, taking care of her. I was glad that she hadn't had a dreadful last few days.
I was glad we hadn't had to intervene.
