!! This is a story celebrating one of my most beloved chickens. There are no graphic photos, but I talk about her passing so please be warned. I'm also not trying to evoke sympathy, I just want to share my story and talk about how brutal the sour crop illness is and how crucial it is to spend your time together.
Cuckoo was one of my 15 chickens; she was a black Pekin bantam with two, gray sisters and hypnotizing hazel eyes. I adopted her alongside her two sisters in June, 2024. Today (24/12), at 10:40am AEST, I found Cuckoo in her isolation, unfortunately, 'not moving'. She (I'm assuming..) died of sour crop. This was why she began isolating just the night before. This was her second time having sour crop: we got rid of it the first time but it came back because she ate more than what the others did. I tried my best to help her this time but she refused to eat foods I made to help, like scrambled eggs, or medicine like laxative-like powders specifically for chickens. I knew her time was coming because the past week she had been isolating herself from the flock, looked really unhealthy, and slept nearly all day yesterday.
Cuckoo's Life Story
Cuckoo was one of my beloved chickens. She instantly grew on me because of her friendliness and our quickly growing relationship. I have so many memories of her. When I got crickets as treats, everyone wanted one but wouldn't approach me, but Cuckoo would come up to me, and climb over my crossed-legs to peck the container. She was talkative too; everytime I saw her she was happy, talking to me. The first sour crop came by, she was somewhat happy, but suffered physically. Sometimes, I would find her sitting beneath the coop as her crop was so big she couldn't jump up. I had to tuck her into bed, and I'm glad I went out late at night to find her. Then I began nurturing her indoors. Quite frankly, she began loving being in a coop by herself. I eventually had to move her cage outside, and let her roam the verandah and (under-supervision) in the grass. When it was bedtime, she would be waiting for me to lift her into her cage. While Cuckoo was in the cage, living a happy, healing life, another chicken of mine, a black Langshan named Pickles, was badly injured and needed isolation (we thought she was going to die, but thankfully, that night, she survived). She was sharing the cage with Cuckoo, but it was divided because Pickles would peck Cuckoo, who wouldn't fight back. After a few days I removed the barrier, and eventually, they became best friends. They were so good friends, that the day before Cuckoo's passing they were in the (main) coop together. Eventually though, Pickles did recover, but she still stayed to keep her friend company. Meanwhile, Booboo and Lulu, the sisters of Cuckoo, were broody in the main coop, this will be important later. Cuckoo got better and began becoming vocal and regained her ability to run. It wasn't until two weeks later, when her crop began expanding again. I tried feeding her specialised foods to help her heal but she turned them down. This sour crop was worst than the last; an advancement of her illness. She would hide away from everyone on the verandah, sitting at the backdoor between pot plants while simultaneously eating.. she would always get caught and in trouble. In the last week of her life, she looked ill.. more than what she did from her first illness. The other chickens would pick on her, including her sisters taken over by broodiness, all of them except for Pickles and one or two others. She couldn't run, so I had to pick her up and put her somewhere safer. On the 22nd of December, I took a heap of photos with her where her physical appearance was noticeably horrible. The next day, she was in the coop all day. I moved her nesting box near the water and onto ground level; she did not drink from what I saw. I then decided I needed to isolate her. It was bad timing because a day ago I had just gotten a broody mother chicken and her baby. I had to find a separate cage to put her in. I checked later that night to see she tipped her water, so I refilled it. We were short on towels (I used a towel instead of bedding), so I couldn't replace the half-damp towel. She settled, and the night went by. I checked on her the next morning, she was on the opposite side of her container. I microwaved her two scrambled eggs with a laxative powder safe for chickens. She didn't eat it... if it was her first isolation she would've scoffed it, but no. I cracked a normal egg on top to encourage her to eat it, she took one peck and turned it away. An hour later, I went to check on her progress with the food, to see her.. in that horrible state with her head down and eggs closed.
All I did for the next 6 hours was stay bedridden crying while reminiscing at photos and memories of her. She died peacefully, as she was inside away from the flock in silence. I imagine her in heaven, dancing and running around freely without her crop weighing her down, where she can flap her wings, jump high, and avoid all harm. Sour crop is horrible; it's like cancer for chickens. Please, I beg you, PLEASE, treat your chickens and comfort them as soon as possible. Spend your time with your chickens as much as you can, dawn until dusk. I am glad I got photos with her before her passing, I will post them .
Photo Explanations
First photo is Cuckoo in the back, with Booboo. (we got Lulu a week later)
Second photo is Cuckoo with both Booboo and Lulu.
Third photo is Cuckoo. This was when her first sour crop occured. She was still healthy and red.
Fourth photo is Cuckoo on the kitchen counter. I believe its when I first tried her on specialised treats.
Fifth photo is Cuckoo and Pickles, on the verandah. They were good friends, Cuckoo's only true friend. When I was sitting out in the coop, crying for Cuckoo, Pickles looked around talking, I could only imagine her asked where Cuckoo was.
Sixth photo, the first odd thing I noticed about Cuckoo, her shaking her head. I thought it was a funny dance, but it was really a symptom.
Seventh photo, one of my favourites. It's Cuckoo protesting over, something.. she was a really vocal girl.
Eighth, Cuckoo early in December, napping in the dirt. I even had a 5 minute video of her napping.
Nineth is from a day before her passing, in the same bush she first sat in with her sisters.
Ten and eleven are Cuckoo drinking water and napping on and off. She looked like a little shopkeeper. It was also one of her final moments with the rest of the flock.
Lastly, twelve, one of the last photos I took of her. This is when she was sleeping all day.
I have more photos and videos if anyone is curious.
I know I was a bad owner. I didn't exceed to what she needed. I'll never let it go that I failed Cuckoo. This was the first death of a chicken I've faced. It's all my fault but I'm happy that she's safer. I should've done something sooner but I couldn't. I kept her leg tags and two feathers as a memory. I'm sorry Cuckoo, I really am. Even though you're not here, all I've done all day is talk to you and apologise. I'm sorry you couldn't even make it to your first Christmas with us.
Again, I'm not seeking sympathy or anything, I just want to share my story on Cuckoo's life and spread awareness of the impact sour crop has on chickens. Spend every second with chickens.
Cuckoo was one of my 15 chickens; she was a black Pekin bantam with two, gray sisters and hypnotizing hazel eyes. I adopted her alongside her two sisters in June, 2024. Today (24/12), at 10:40am AEST, I found Cuckoo in her isolation, unfortunately, 'not moving'. She (I'm assuming..) died of sour crop. This was why she began isolating just the night before. This was her second time having sour crop: we got rid of it the first time but it came back because she ate more than what the others did. I tried my best to help her this time but she refused to eat foods I made to help, like scrambled eggs, or medicine like laxative-like powders specifically for chickens. I knew her time was coming because the past week she had been isolating herself from the flock, looked really unhealthy, and slept nearly all day yesterday.
Cuckoo's Life Story
Cuckoo was one of my beloved chickens. She instantly grew on me because of her friendliness and our quickly growing relationship. I have so many memories of her. When I got crickets as treats, everyone wanted one but wouldn't approach me, but Cuckoo would come up to me, and climb over my crossed-legs to peck the container. She was talkative too; everytime I saw her she was happy, talking to me. The first sour crop came by, she was somewhat happy, but suffered physically. Sometimes, I would find her sitting beneath the coop as her crop was so big she couldn't jump up. I had to tuck her into bed, and I'm glad I went out late at night to find her. Then I began nurturing her indoors. Quite frankly, she began loving being in a coop by herself. I eventually had to move her cage outside, and let her roam the verandah and (under-supervision) in the grass. When it was bedtime, she would be waiting for me to lift her into her cage. While Cuckoo was in the cage, living a happy, healing life, another chicken of mine, a black Langshan named Pickles, was badly injured and needed isolation (we thought she was going to die, but thankfully, that night, she survived). She was sharing the cage with Cuckoo, but it was divided because Pickles would peck Cuckoo, who wouldn't fight back. After a few days I removed the barrier, and eventually, they became best friends. They were so good friends, that the day before Cuckoo's passing they were in the (main) coop together. Eventually though, Pickles did recover, but she still stayed to keep her friend company. Meanwhile, Booboo and Lulu, the sisters of Cuckoo, were broody in the main coop, this will be important later. Cuckoo got better and began becoming vocal and regained her ability to run. It wasn't until two weeks later, when her crop began expanding again. I tried feeding her specialised foods to help her heal but she turned them down. This sour crop was worst than the last; an advancement of her illness. She would hide away from everyone on the verandah, sitting at the backdoor between pot plants while simultaneously eating.. she would always get caught and in trouble. In the last week of her life, she looked ill.. more than what she did from her first illness. The other chickens would pick on her, including her sisters taken over by broodiness, all of them except for Pickles and one or two others. She couldn't run, so I had to pick her up and put her somewhere safer. On the 22nd of December, I took a heap of photos with her where her physical appearance was noticeably horrible. The next day, she was in the coop all day. I moved her nesting box near the water and onto ground level; she did not drink from what I saw. I then decided I needed to isolate her. It was bad timing because a day ago I had just gotten a broody mother chicken and her baby. I had to find a separate cage to put her in. I checked later that night to see she tipped her water, so I refilled it. We were short on towels (I used a towel instead of bedding), so I couldn't replace the half-damp towel. She settled, and the night went by. I checked on her the next morning, she was on the opposite side of her container. I microwaved her two scrambled eggs with a laxative powder safe for chickens. She didn't eat it... if it was her first isolation she would've scoffed it, but no. I cracked a normal egg on top to encourage her to eat it, she took one peck and turned it away. An hour later, I went to check on her progress with the food, to see her.. in that horrible state with her head down and eggs closed.
All I did for the next 6 hours was stay bedridden crying while reminiscing at photos and memories of her. She died peacefully, as she was inside away from the flock in silence. I imagine her in heaven, dancing and running around freely without her crop weighing her down, where she can flap her wings, jump high, and avoid all harm. Sour crop is horrible; it's like cancer for chickens. Please, I beg you, PLEASE, treat your chickens and comfort them as soon as possible. Spend your time with your chickens as much as you can, dawn until dusk. I am glad I got photos with her before her passing, I will post them .
Photo Explanations
First photo is Cuckoo in the back, with Booboo. (we got Lulu a week later)
Second photo is Cuckoo with both Booboo and Lulu.
Third photo is Cuckoo. This was when her first sour crop occured. She was still healthy and red.
Fourth photo is Cuckoo on the kitchen counter. I believe its when I first tried her on specialised treats.
Fifth photo is Cuckoo and Pickles, on the verandah. They were good friends, Cuckoo's only true friend. When I was sitting out in the coop, crying for Cuckoo, Pickles looked around talking, I could only imagine her asked where Cuckoo was.
Sixth photo, the first odd thing I noticed about Cuckoo, her shaking her head. I thought it was a funny dance, but it was really a symptom.
Seventh photo, one of my favourites. It's Cuckoo protesting over, something.. she was a really vocal girl.
Eighth, Cuckoo early in December, napping in the dirt. I even had a 5 minute video of her napping.
Nineth is from a day before her passing, in the same bush she first sat in with her sisters.
Ten and eleven are Cuckoo drinking water and napping on and off. She looked like a little shopkeeper. It was also one of her final moments with the rest of the flock.
Lastly, twelve, one of the last photos I took of her. This is when she was sleeping all day.
I have more photos and videos if anyone is curious.
I know I was a bad owner. I didn't exceed to what she needed. I'll never let it go that I failed Cuckoo. This was the first death of a chicken I've faced. It's all my fault but I'm happy that she's safer. I should've done something sooner but I couldn't. I kept her leg tags and two feathers as a memory. I'm sorry Cuckoo, I really am. Even though you're not here, all I've done all day is talk to you and apologise. I'm sorry you couldn't even make it to your first Christmas with us.
Again, I'm not seeking sympathy or anything, I just want to share my story on Cuckoo's life and spread awareness of the impact sour crop has on chickens. Spend every second with chickens.
And it never gets easier, at least not for me. Each chicken that crosses that Rainbow Bridge 
shatters my heart all over again. We totally understand your loss. 
