Our most proper Henrietta has died. She who once ruled the roost became sick last summer with an infection that would not heal despite the medical attentions of the vet, of Dona, our resident chicken expert, and of my father, a retired pediatrician. She spent her last weeks in the glass house (above) where she reveled in the warmth, ate lots of mealworms and tomatoes, and really seemed to get better. Then she got worse.
She will be remembered for her fantastic head of feathers, her not very queenlike laugh (more like a hee-haw), and her benevolent rule. Unlike our current queen of the coop, the High Empress Earl Grey, Henrietta never needed to assert her authority. When she approached the food bowl, all stepped aside and waited a respectable amount of time before joining her.
She wasn’t entirely perfect. She disliked the cold and would administer decisive pecks to anyone who dared sit in her spot under the heat lamp.
We mistakenly thought Henrietta was a Polish hen but it seems she was of the rarer breed, Appenzeller Spitzhauben, originating from Switzerland. She was petite and not much of a layer but that’s the job of the Buff Orpington gang. As you can see from the photos below, she was a gentle creature, allowing us to hold her and feed her by hand. Farewell Henrietta. You were a sweet and good chicken.
