Oprah Our (Buff Orpington) Chicken Girl

It’s been a very challenging few weeks. We’ve definitely had some trouble at the hen house. There’s lots of tricky stuff to process and write about, but it needs time to settle. Right now I’d rather share some happiness and joy. Which means, it’s time to share the story of bringing home and getting to know Oprah, the (sweetest ever!) Buff Orpington chicken.

Oprah was a member of August 2021’s Brood Two. She came home with Renata and Tasse, Hermione, and Nanette. After scouring the tubs at Tractor Supply and picking the other four, S. suggested we choose a Buff Orpington. They were quite a bit bigger / older than the others chosen, but we selected one (dear Oprah) and then hesitated . . . was she too big to be mixed in with these other tiny chickie girls? Especially the Tiny Twins, who could have easily used a Reese’s peanut butter cup as a wading pool at that point.

The very kind lady at TS (who had patiently managed my hair-brained yet successful straight-run bantam selection) saw our hesitation and started to move ever so slightly in the direction of “putting back.”

No surprise what happened next, heartily nudged in the split second where we considered what “putting back” might feel like. After our zig, we zagged and Oprah was put in a tiny cardboard take-away chickie container.  However, because she was about a week +/- older than the other chickies, at the thoughtful recommendation of the TS associate, she was put in a takeaway box . . . all . . . by . . . herself.

Knowing all of our chickie girls as we do now, I can see how the nature of Edie or maybe Lady might have not been totally miserable being all on their own in a dark box, slotted into the “small things” compartment of a tractor-store-shaped shopping cart.

But Oprah?!  Then and now, it’s hard not to see that she is not a solo type. Oprah is no lone wolf.  Oprah is in it to win it, with her sisters. She’s no push over. If Tasse is a bit too devoted at times, Oprah will offer her a gentle swat (peck) to back off, but mostly Oprah loves her sisters. In fact, of our three broods, Brood Two are the tightest group. They flock and range together regularly . . . and I think a lot of this is the influence of their sweet, wise big sister: Oprah.

So, there we are, picking up a few final items for Brood Two, so the baby girls can have their car ride home and hunker down in their brooder which was actually built this time and awaiting their sweetness. Us knowing (way more!) about what was ahead.

And, then, Old Man River Chicken Owner (in the chicken food aisle) got onto some sort of very well-meaning, and also very long spiel about chickening—food, feathers, all sorts of stuff. Offered through his experience raising “game” birds. I didn’t ask what “game” meant, but suffice to say, our chickens don’t play games . . . at least not any games that we are mutually aware of.

Meanwhile we can hear dear, sweet, tiny (though bigger than the others) Oprah just crying away in her solitary confinement container.

“Just boil an egg and crumble it against the inside of their coop.”

~PEEP!~

“Nothing better for their feathers and they love it…”

~PEEP! PEEP! PEEP!~

Getting cold.

“And you want that medicated food…”

~PEEP????~

Never been alone before.

“…don’t want to take any risks and not use medicated food.”

~!PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!~

About *the* sweetest, fluffiest, kindest-hearted little chicken you could ever know.

At last the extended ramble on medicated, vs. not medicated food was complete, and a few dozen other things. We were off to the checkout with our chick crumble, pine shavings, and a new brooder bulb.

(If you’re wondering about the medicated food, I appreciated this (concise!) video about it.)

I was about ready to jump out of my skin listening to these very loud (for a sparrow-sized being), very unhappy cries. While Oprah was clearly and understandably agitated, I would speculate that S. and I were nearly as agitated. You could just hear her little heart crying out for love, in the darkness.

We got through the checkout, into the car, and AT ONCE, (no questions asked) sweet baby Oprah was transferred from her solo room into the cozy container with the others. And, almost at once all of her sisters snuggled in around her and imprinted—wisely—on this big-sister mama.

There were many times in their first days in the brooder that tiny Tasse or Rennie would wedge themselves under Oprah’s wing as if she were a mama hen. She really was that much bigger and it really wasn’t a problem at all. She was gentle and loving and she very kindly tolerated—maybe even enjoyed—taking care of her sister-girls. Not all breeds might be this way, but I suspect most Buff Orpingtons would behave similarly . . . maybe not exactly as sweet as Oprah, but they might come close and that would be enough.

What we didn’t know in those very early days was that Oprah was to be our first developmentally different chickie girl. We noticed when she was very small—once the girls started making their rounds in the Thunder Dome / chicken training ground—that she walked in a different, slightly lop-sided way. With each step, she stretched out her right leg and toes (claws) with in an exaggerated, sort of very intentional extension. And, when she really got moving there was a bit of a hippity-hop in her giddy-up.

Nothing about Oprah has changed much since those early days.  I mean, she’s much bigger and fluffier, and more beautiful, but her personality continues to be a wise, patient, buff cloud of delight. And, while her leg has not become worse or more troublesome, it does impact how she moves about each day.

As she’s grown and become more comfortable with us, we’ve had a chance to feel her lower legs, what would be her (forgive me!) drumstick. With inspection, I’ve noticed that the right leg seems to have a less-developed muscle. Her foot on that side appears a bit stiffer too, sort of more clamped most of the time, perhaps compensating for the lesser developed muscle.

She gets around just fine though—thank you very much! Though when it get cold she does seem to get a bit stiff and extra hippity-hoppity, and maybe a bit sore. Kind of like mommy and daddy are doing more and more with each year. Happily, Oprah has never displayed any hunching, puffing up, or head shaking that tend to be signs of big pain for chickens.

Oprah also seems to enjoy (maybe tolerate) a little leg massage from time to time. This is helped by the fact that she’s always been OK to be held. She will sound her little Oprah clucky, growl alarm if you put her down too quickly though, perhaps because a sudden landing is tricky for her legs. So we’ve learned, thanks to her admonitions, to set her down so-o-o-o slowly. In a fashion so she’s nearly laying down when placed on the earth and can then regain her standing posture as she needs to, with her unique musculature.

She does move a bit more slowly and is a probably bit more vulnerable to predators (which honestly makes me want to cover my ears and chant, La La La La at the top of my voice). Interestingly, because of loyalty that her Brood Two sisters, there always seems to be at least one of the other four at her side most all of the time they are out ranging.  And, I am still slightly convinced (though we didn’t actually see the attack) that the late-summer day when Tasse was *nearly* snatched by a red-tail hawk, it was due to that fearless Tiny Twin putting herself in harm’s way to protect Sister Oprah. We’ll never know for sure, but I do like the story as I have written it, because they both survived and thrived.

So, in short form, what we’ve learned from Oprah  (so far):

1) You can put a bigger chick in with smaller ones, at least when they are a more docile breed. Not guaranteed, but probably a-OK, maybe even a  match made in heaven.

2) If your chickie girl has a hippity-hop in her giddy-up, she’ll probably be just fine, check it out, see if she’ll tolerate a little massage of both legs, because if one is undersized the other is overcompensating. See if she won’t take a little more toting around too, when it’s cold and things might hurt more. And for Pete’s sake, when you put her down take it re-e-e-eal slow.

Chickens are not just “dumb animals.” They have their specific needs, language, and ways of being. They are also teachers.