I feel terrible. One of our chickens died after incurring a large wound very early in the morning.

We lock our 10 girls (hens!) in at night. Every night. We feel responsible for their wellbeing. They are our pets. They share their eggs. They bring joy to our friends and house guests.

We live in a neighborhood flush with skunk, raccoon, hawks, etc. Even though we have a fully enclosed coop to offer protection, we know it is inevitable that we will lose one or two. That death part by critters gaining access to the inner sanctuary (and in the middle of the night or early morning hours) is by far the hardest part of raising poultry. One slip up of timing or not seeing the workings of biting through the wires is costly.

At 5am in the midst of a deep sleep, I heard our chickens. Was it their normal morning excitement or was it a cry out for help? We had finally opened our bedroom window for the first time this year so I dropped into deeper listening. No, I decided, I think it might be an animal.

I threw on a warm jacket and went to the backyard and saw one bird that had clearly been destroyed—feathers everywhere and the remains of the carcass left out for me to see. Then, the panic—how many are still here? I got Pete up and we wandered to the back of the coop and there I saw 2 huge openings in our fence and a large rock had been moved away from the tiny door. This was a big job. Raccoon? Or a bear? Both have been recently sighted in the neighborhood. Bears don’t kill chickens do they? Apparently yes, I would learn later. Raccoons don’t need to make that big a tear in the fencing or do they? Mountain lion? Hmm. I surveyed the scene and then went around the block to see if I could find any evidence. No signs of any animal but plenty of folks up for a neighborhood solstice celebration.

One bird, we would later discover, was severely injured. I separated the injured chicken. I just couldn’t deal with what now/what next? I felt a big pit in my stomach. This bird has an open wound but is hanging in there—breathing —some bloody area, but not actively bleeding—most likely in shock but not obviously dying. I gave it a little Reiki and some Rescue Remedy. Would it recover? Maybe. Realistically and objectively—no. A few years ago, a few of us had come to the rescue of an attacked duck. Big puncture wounds and maggots all over. I was sick to my stomach, but we all took turns cleaning and bathing this duck back to life. But it is not like I had this thought that that would happen to the chicken, it is just that I couldn’t bear the thought of actually taking a knife to its head in that moment. It was still, it was breathing, it was alive and responsive. I couldn’t imagine how to humanely kill it. So I placed it on newspaper,—a makeshift bed and made sure that the other chickens would leave it alone—before saying goodnight. Thankfully, it would be dead in the morning. I hope without much suffering.

I love having chickens, I love the fresh eggs. I don’t like the other side of being startled awake by the clear sounds of an uninvited animal on a killing spree in our backyard coop.

Even though over the years our chickens have no names, I know each one. The Golden Buff is by far the friendliest and boldest one—eager to get the first pick of scraps and shovel digs that bring bugs and worms to the surface. She is still with us. We lost our two speckled Sussexes. I am sad for the loss of our sweet girls and the coop has been reinforced. Hopefully, it will be a long time before we have to deal with that trauma.

Ultimately, the Reiki offering was to support the chicken with her transition. To bring about calm and acceptance for both of us. To show compassion and care. It was about love in the moment.

#Reiki for wounded pets.