RIP Maude

Before work, I headed down to the allotment, blissfully unaware of what awaited me in the Omlet. I always begin with Maude and Mavis when checking the chickens as their coop is right by the shed. When I arrived, I spotted Maude on the floor. I rushed over thinking she might have injured herself only to find she had passed away.

I couldn’t believe it. I’ve come to think of Maude and Mavis as indestructible. They have to be somewhere around 8-9 years old having first belonged to Bentley Mick, the Phil before coming to us.

When we adopted them from Phil, I Maude her name after watching her walk up to Tommy, our Rhode Island Red cockerel (at least four times her size!) and launch herself at his wattles, hanging her full body weight off them while he panicked not knowing what to do. When thinking about naming this small feisty chicken, I looked for names which had suitably tough and warrior-like meanings. I spotted Maude which meant ‘Battle Mighty’ which was absolutely perfect. I confess Mavis got Mavis because it seemed to match nicely with Maude.

Although we have only had a dozen eggs from both of them since adopting them, it’s been so lovely to see them happy, enjoying a leisurely retirement. But the loss of Maude raised another issue – what to do with Mavis? Chickens are flock animals and need to have the company of other hens. I couldn’t leave her alone.  But where should she go? Should I take her home and watch her terrorise the Topknot Gang? Would she manage in the Main Coop with Flora, Dotty, Rey and Polly? All of them are much larger than Mavis and I wouldn’t want her to get bullied. That left the New Coop. Four against one isn’t the best odds, especially when the odd one out is positively ancient by chicken standards. But that seemed to be the best option.

I caught Mavis and walked her across to the New Coop. She was very unimpressed with being held and made her disapproval abundantly clear. I put her down in the New Coop carefully. As I turned to shut the door, I heard a squawk. In the split second I had turned my head, Mavis was terrorising the bantams. Poor Connie took the brunt of the first attack, then each of the others in turn. My concern changed from Mavis to the others. Mavis, clearly channelling Maude’s signature dramatic entrance of yesteryear, succeeded in rounding up the others and forcing them into the nest box to huddle together quaking with fear whilst the victor ambled to the food bowl and began nonchalantly eating breakfast.

I waited for as long as I could to see that there would be no more dramatic fights. After ten minutes, I was going to be late for work so I ran home, hoping against hope that all would settle quickly in the New Coop! Both Mavis and I will miss Maude tremendously – she was terrified of no one, no matter how much bigger they were than her. She always stood her ground and wore her name Battle Mighty with pride.