Brown Egg Blue Egg

Enter Louise the Horrible

By Annette
Posted to the HouseChickens Group at
7 July 2005

Towards the end of school, about 5 years back, some bad boy decided to play a prank.
"There's a CHICKEN IN THE SCHOOL," I heard in the halls.

I rushed to the second floor, and BEHOLD, a wee Silkie, scared out of its mind. Rather than letting it get gased at animal control, I took it to my room. Now, at that time, I knew precisely jack about chickens and thought it was a girl. OK, OK, but you have to admit, Silkies can be deceptive that way. I had "her" in a box beside my desk.

The lights were off and we were watching a documentary on Hitler.
"Cockadoodle DOOOOOOOO!"
28 people jumped out of their skins and then started laughing.

George came home with us. I had him in a dog crate in the garden, oblivious to the fact that it could be a death trap at night. He howled, he crowed. I figured the neighbors would blow me in. "Maybe if I got him a woman", I stupidly said to Bob, "he won't crow quite so much."

Off I went to the farm of a student and picked LOUISE, who of all the birds came strutting out of the pen, obviously wanting to be adopted. George, who was one third the size of Lou, beat her quickly into submission. He advanced, she retreated. That first night she was in the crate, while he squatted outside of it, singing a peculiar Silkie love song to her, a weird kind of incessant drone.

From that morning they were inseparable--well he followed, she permitted.
He would guard her as she layed, offerring her treats and singing her silkie songs.

Did I mention the crowing continued?

Several days passed and I realized I couldn't keep George cause of the noise issue. All the while I continued to be an ignorant idiot about predators. The first morning of vacation Bob was going to take George to a nice home. Early in the morning, around 4;30, I thought I heard fighting in my dreams.

Then at 6;00, NO CROWING.
Silence woke me up.

At 6:00 I went to look and there were the pathetic remains of George. Louise, badly injured was hiding behind a raised bed. Apparently a racoon had been stalking them and George, who had been trying to tell me the problem with his incessant crowing, died defending his babe. I came back to bed.

        Bob cracked open an eye and said, "what are you doing up so early?"
"You don't have to bother taking George to his new home. He's been eaten."
"He's been eaten!"
And I promptly started wailing like a 3 year old.

Now poor Bob had never seen me cry. I'm just not much of a crier, and here I am wailing over a chicken. Need I say he become concerned?

"Oh please don't cry. I'll get you a new chicken! 2 chickens". And he promptly began a relentless cyber search till he found Silkies just like the now sainted George. He found Alan, who sold him Aunt Shorty and the Schmoo.

Louise the Horrible recovered from the first of her near-death eggperiences. The three became buddies, now living on a secured porch.

And Louise keeps eternal the memory of Saint George, the Beloved who died to save her.

Brown Egg Blue Egg