In 2018, the year I began my flock, I lost half of them (about seven hens) to a terrible virus called Marek’s. Even though they had been vaccinated, my birds began to exhibit signs of the disease–splayed legs, curled toes, drunken walk, etc. I took the first two victims to the vet, where I received the diagnosis and ended up paying about $100 each time to euthanize the birds. I cried, and the vet said she’d never met anyone who cried over a chicken.
After the first two, I realized I couldn’t afford to take every sick bird to the vet, so I looked for easy, humane ways to euthanize suffering hens. I finally settled on carbon dioxide, which you can achieve by settling your bird in an airtight container, adding a chunk of dry ice, and then adding some water and snapping on the lid. The ice produces carbon dioxide, the birds suffocate, and it all takes place without the chicken owner suffering . . . too much.
But after euthanizing several birds in this way, my vet told me it wasn’t really humane–suffocation rarely is. It’s quick, but not quick enough. Oy.
Fortunately, after I lost half my birds, an agent at the state agricultural department told me that the rest of my birds should survive. And every time I’ve hatched chicks since, I vaccinate them against Marek’s on the day of hatching and again ten days later. And I haven’t had a case of Marek’s since . . . until last week.
Sunni, one of my grown hens, displayed the usual symptoms–one leg splayed out back, straight as a ramrod, the other one with curled toes. She couldn’t walk. I put her in a separate pen with food and water and watched her, realizing that if she did have Marek’s–and I was 98 percent sure she did–she could infect my other birds who hadn’t been exposed in 2018 (I don’t exactly trust vaccinations any more).
I went into the house and searched for other ways to humanely kill a chicken. Turns out the preferred method is called “cervical dislocation,” and this is how you do it–you hold the chicken’s legs with one hand, draw her across your body, and take the head and neck with your dominant hand. Then you tilt the head back and turn it, popping the head free of the spine, thus severing the spinal cord. The hen dies instantly, though there is usually some residual flapping and fluttering.
The next morning, Sunni was no better. So, determined to put her out of her misery and keep my other birds safe, I sang, “I am woman, hear me roar” and went outside to be a Responsible Chicken Keeper. I followed the instructions, held her head just so, and twisted. Then I looked into her eyes, expecting to see still, dilated pupils.
Sunni blinked at me. Oops.
So I tried it again. No change, just more blinking.
After about three tries, I gave up. There’s another way to do it–you lay the hen on the ground, place a broom handle just beneath the skull, and pull the head back until it snaps. I tried it, then removed the broom and looked at Sunni. Gasping, she gave me a look that clearly said, “What in the world are you trying to do, kill me?”
Oy. I didn’t have the heart to try again, so I put Sunni back in her special cage and decided that I’d try again the next day–with an axe. Surely I could pull that off, and it was just as humane, though probably one of the hardest methods for a chicken keeper (the proverbial chicken with its head cut off? . . .)
But the next morning, Sunni was up and walking on two legs. And the next morning she was eating and walking and squawking at the girls in the next pen. So the next morning I put her back with the others and now I’m happy to say that she seems fully recovered. So it must not have been Marek’s. No other birds appear sick. Maybe she had simply sprained her ankle . . .
So I still don’t have a foolproof way to euthanize a chicken. But as long as my girls are healthy, I’m good with that.
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Bless your heart! I assume that you’re raising chickens for the eggs, not the meat since you had not killed a chicken previous to Marek’s. I’m sure if your family’s food depended on your killing chickens, you’d harden to the task and do fine. However, it’s clear that you’ve become attached to your chickens as pets and are exhibiting motherly care and concern for them. I think I would be the same way.
You’re absolutely right. They are my pets (I keep some infrequent layers and older hens who have pretty much stopped laying), and I am attached to their sweet personalities. If I HAD to slaughter them for food, I’m sure I’d find a way, but right now, I’m relieved that I don’t have to. 🙂
Oh, Angie. You are woman, hear her roar, without a doubt!! But I am so glad Sunni survived your attempts.
Me, too. I think the Lord knew she was okay, so I was glad I didn’t press on that same day. :-).
Oh my goodness! You had me in suspense on poor Sunni’s behalf! I’m so glad that she made a remarkable recovery and you both lived to tell the tale. 🙂
So am I! 🙂
Your love for your chickens is apparent, but you had me laughing with your failed efforts do do away with Sunni. I’m glad she survived your efforts.
I’m glad Sunni still loves me, but I think she would love anyone who fed her dried worms. 🙂
I have a diary my grandmother kept back around 1900. One entry was about going to a cousin’s farm and her entry one day went something like this, “We strangled a chicken and ate it for supper.” So there you go. That’s how it was done over a century ago.
I think I would have had to get tougher to survive back then. 😉
Many years ago when I was only about seven or eight, I watched my grandmother take a chicken to a tree stump, lay it across the stump, and cut off its head. Over and done. I’ve never heard of the methods you read about, but I have heard of people grabbing a chicken by the head and giving it a quick twirl which accomplished what you were apparently attempting. No one ever mentioned any hen surviving that or the axe.
I can see why! 😀
Angie, you had me wincing and laughing almost simultaneously. Gracious, woman, you are something else! What an adventure having chickens is. Thanks for sharing your experiences—and keep them coming!
Bless you! 🐣
My mom grew up on a farm and often talked about killing chickens to eat. They snapped their necks. Then plucked the feathers. Not much went to waste. In my little German-Russian community, pickled chicken legs are “thing.” (I’ve not tried those…they look like wrinkled, over-sized, toothpicks.)
I have a story, that I won’t tell here, about trying to humanly kill a hummingbird with a broken wing. It’s both horrible…and a bit hilarious. Like your story.
I can imagine!🐥
Roxy, I hope you’ll be impressed to know that I HAVE eaten pickled chicken feet! They tasted about as good as they sound. And Angie, I remember my great-grandmother swinging chickens to death over her head. My grandmother, her daughter, would then pluck the big feathers and my mom would singe the pin feathers off over a plate of burning alcohol. It was quite a production for a couple of fried chicken dinners!
Deb, I am truly impressed!!