Mother's Instinct

He was spending his days outside in the freezing cold. When he had the chance, and he thought it was safe, he would hide in the small, three-sided shelter in the chicken run. Trying to stay as far away from his son, JB, as possible was hard to do considering he only has one eye. Old One-Eyed Calico Jack can't even rely on peripheral vision. A chicken's eye is on the side of its head, not the front like a human. So poor Old Jack has to continually turn his body to see what is around him. After the coup in the coop, when he lost his position as king of the roost, he basically spent three very paranoid days spinning in circles.

Despite his protests, I couldn't just leave him outside at night. He had to go inside. So I would chase him all around the run until he finally conceded and ran into the coop heading straight for the nest box where Precious was brooding her clutch of eggs. It's a small box; I can't imagine she was very happy about sharing it. But it did provide the safe haven Jack desperately needed. You see, JB seemed to have swollen up with testosterone after his hostile takeover. Any time he would see Jack he would try to chase him off, or worse, beat him up.

The second night, when I chased Jack in, he ran up the plank and into the coop. The minute I shut the door behind him, I heard an awful racket. JB had been laying-in-wait just inside the door. I bolted out of the run and around to the human entrance in time to scare the daylights out of JB. I was furious. I didn't care if it was nature’s way or not. His behavior was the equivalent of the school bully picking on the special needs kid. MY special needs kid. And I was going to have none of that. I wanted to string him up right then and there, but I counted to ten and then calmly explained what happens to bad roosters around here and told him he had twenty-four hours to get his act together. Or else.

Meanwhile, Jack had gotten cozy with Precious in the nest box again. The following day, I moved the expectant mother and her nest to the back porch where she could hatch her babies in peace. Jack spent his day outside again. He would peck and cluck and try to get the ladies to come out and join him, but they wouldn't do it. If he got too close to the coop, JB would come out and chase him away. That night, when it was time for all the animals to turn in for the night, Old Jack was still outside. When I raised my arms to signal it was time to go inside, he just sat down, letting me reach down and pick him up. I think he was saying, "I give up. I can't do it anymore. Please don't make me go back in there."

As badly as I felt for Precious, I just couldn't put Jack back in the coop. Instead, he joined her on the porch. He ate like a pig and then slept like a log. Even though the brooder is the size of a large coffin, he insisted on sleeping in the shoebox-size nest with her. I think he just needed to snuggle.

Now, after a good night's sleep, he's king again. King of the box instead of king of the roost, but that's okay with Jack. It's his box and that's all that matters. And to top it off, he's not only king, he's also a proud poppa. A chick hatched sometime last night and today they are one big happy family.

I wanted to get a nice photo for the baby announcement, but Precious is having no part of that. I don't blame her. A mother's instinct is the most powerful force on earth. If she wants to protect her baby, I'm sure not going to argue with her.