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LOUD (CCL) CHICKS!! YAY!!

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Brilliant idea that didn't work out--raise threatened chicken breeds from egg to chicken. This is a very expensive thing, and also sometimes chicks die before hatching.

Which brings me to Loud, who survived an incubator failure. He's a crested cream legbar and because nobody else survived the failure, we (me) handled him a lot, thinking he\d go outside and join the rest of my flock. Nope. Loud is not having it. Cuddling, yes. Sitting on poor Lily, who weighs about 120lbs? Great! Going outside to a heated coup? Nah.

So now he's literally taken over my formal dining room. I have it gated off now, and some stuff that he does, like come to his name or scream at his chicken diaper, is funny. The other thing is that it seems like he's trying to say "Good Morning" in the morning, if anyone says it in his vicinity. No, I'm not making this up--other people have heard my recording of him crowing/talking, or they've heard him in person.

The problem is, everything I've found on Google about house chickens is all about how they should not be kept singly or as pets. Meanwhile, I have a fucking rooster nestled up against Lily, both sound asleep, and my entire formal dining is quite literally a damn chicken pen. Help me, please, I want my fancy chairs back.

The culprit (no, I don't knw how to rotate images):





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Her Royal Spriteness
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sorry, but i can't stop lauging right now. when (if) i do, iI'll try to think of a solution. or not.

You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.

Troublemaker
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Pick up the rooster, put him in the coop. Be firm. It will only get worse. Except I don't know how that works if there is already a rooster. Not too well would be my guess. You may have to build a second coop. Sorry, but it is kinda funny too.
Sexy Seductive Siren
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Not a problem really. I can loan you my pet fox! The woods on my farm are full of them.

Meagan
The Linebacker
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Give the rooster his own bedroom, and highchair at the dinner table. Then get a reality TV contract.
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Quote by sprite
sorry, but i can't stop lauging right now. when (if) i do, iI'll try to think of a solution. or not.


It is funny. There is something crazy unnatural about having a 125lb. Anatolian Shepherd, which, unlike Great Pyrenees, are not innately good with chickens, lying down and watching a damn chicken drinking out of her bowl. Or her rearranging herself so that Loud can cuddle against Lily's belly.

Actually? The whole fucking thing is hilarious, and if I didn't need to go through the formal dining room to access the patio doors or to access the mudroom/laundry room, I'd probably be okay with it. Although it does make for some odd conversations when I'm on the phone.

Pick up the rooster, put him in the coop. Be firm. It will only get worse. Except I don't know how that works if there is already a rooster. Not too well would be my guess. You may have to build a second coop. Sorry, but it is kinda funny too.


Oh, he's been put in the coop. I have a very large coop from Aleko, and I've equipped it with products from K&H, so it's heated. Anyway, I've tried sneaky--unlocking the coop and putting him in after the hens are asleep (this coop has six nesting boxes, but the hens, all seven, pile themselves into one box when they sleep). No go. I've tried putting him in the run. Lots of times. Nope.

So yah. Won't be hosting any dinners anytime soon. Well, not that I would have a dinner party any time soon anyway, but the point is, I've tried, and every morning I either come home to a crowing Loud, or I wake up to a crowing Loud.
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We had chickens out in the desert most of which were biddies when we got them. We had asked for all hens but one turned out to be a young rooster which fixated on my wife as his hen. He followed her everywhere and would jump up onto her hand, grab a chunk of skin, hunker down, shiver and then leave a puddle of chicken spooze in he palm. We put him in a separate pen with his own hens and eventually he settled into a more typical rooster role.

Don't know if that will work...but
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Quote by JackStay
We had chickens out in the desert most of which were biddies when we got them. We had asked for all hens but one turned out to be a young rooster which fixated on my wife as his hen. He followed her everywhere and would jump up onto her hand, grab a chunk of skin, hunker down, shiver and then leave a puddle of chicken spooze in he palm. We put him in a separate pen with his own hens and eventually he settled into a more typical rooster role.

Don't know if that will work...but


So the rooster was, *trying to think of a genteel way to say this* using your wife's hand as a sex toy? When I thought it couldn't get worse....but I don't think that will happen with Loud.

I know this sounds bizarre but I've started training Loud in sort of the same way I've trained dogs and horses. Basic things, like "let's go", "wait", and "leave it". The first just means, get up, pay attention, we're going somewhere. The second is pretty self explanatory and with Lily and Mac (my TB x Percheron gelding) is also used as a default command. The third is also pretty self-explanatory, except that it can be applied to everything--toys, food, people, etc. And fuck me running if Loud doesn't at least appear to be picking up on everything I've taught him so far. I don't know how smart chickens are, but at least in this case, it appears that he can learn.

And Buz, about the reality show? No. I am not giving Loud more of my living room and I am really camera-averse. In case you weren't joking.
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Quote by HeraTeleia


So the rooster was, *trying to think of a genteel way to say this* using your wife's hand as a sex toy? When I thought it couldn't get worse....but I don't think that will happen with Loud.

I know this sounds bizarre but I've started training Loud in sort of the same way I've trained dogs and horses. Basic things, like "let's go", "wait", and "leave it". The first just means, get up, pay attention, we're going somewhere. The second is pretty self explanatory and with Lily and Mac (my TB x Percheron gelding) is also used as a default command. The third is also pretty self-explanatory, except that it can be applied to everything--toys, food, people, etc. And fuck me running if Loud doesn't at least appear to be picking up on everything I've taught him so far. I don't know how smart chickens are, but at least in this case, it appears that he can learn.

And Buz, about the reality show? No. I am not giving Loud more of my living room and I am really camera-averse. In case you weren't joking.


We've found chickens to be smarter than folks think. We've also discovered each one had it's own personality and can be taught with the proper incentive. Ours loved meal worms. We never had a large
"flock", no more than five at a time. Our chickens started as rescues when our vet asked us if we could take a little bantam rooster and hen she ended up with from a neighbor who got them for their preschoolers' for Easter. Later we bought some more from her since the bantam rooster wouldn't leave the little hen alone; horny little bastard. just about plucked all the feathers off the hen's back.

Anyway, sounds like you've got a plan (not surprised) and it's working. And, yes, "Puff" the rooster was using her hand as a sex toy or a surrogate hen until he got his own flock. One thing we've learned, critters do not read the same "How to" books we read. They are a constant, wonderful and pleasant surprise whether they are rattlesnakes, chickens, rescued big horned owls, coyotes, foxes, rescued Vietnamese potbellied pigs, cats, rabbits or etc. We love 'em all.
Rookie Scribe
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SERIOUSLY, you claim to be asking members of a sex/erotica website for answers about what to do with a rooster living in your dining room? SO... lets put this into language that this site typically uses!
1) Accept that YOU MUST BE A SUBMISSIVE!
2) Accept that YOU ARE LETTING A ROOSTER, (otherwise known as a male chicken) TO CONTROL AND RULE YOUR LIFE AND HOME!
3) Accept THAT YOU ARE ALLOWING AN AVIAN, CANINE BESTIALITY RELATIONSHIP? You may be poly-amorous, but shouldn't you protect your dog, from this rooster! When this dominating male chicken inevitably "flies the coop", for another dog, or flock (chicken language for chicken harem), leaving your pet "poor Lily" devastated and heartbroken? Don't you try to protect your girlfriends from the "wrong men"?
SOLUTION!; YOU MUST BECOME A DOMINATRIX! This male needs TOUGH LOVE! Do not abuse the bird, but you MUST control him! I suggest he be banished from the house entirely! NO NOT TO THE DOG HOUSE WITH A STUDDED COLLAR! A small coop with one hen perhaps separated at first but within sight. BE TOUGH! STOP TRYING TO TRAIN HIM TO DO TRICKS AS A HOUSE PET! HE DOES NOT DESERVE THIS TREAT! TRAIN HIM FIRST TO "ACCEPT" his real home! Feed him well, he'll eventually accept his lot in life! DO NOT GIVE IN! He'll eventually become used to his mate also. Once you remove the physical barrier between them, and he satisfies his sexual frustration with the hen, he'll probably want a threesome or more! He is male after all! SPECIAL NOTE: YOU MUST ACT DECISIVELY IF THIS COCK TURNS INTO A DICKHEAD! IF THE ROOSTER ABUSES HIS MATE ONCE THE SEPARATION IS REMOVED, .....YOU MUST REMEMBER,......WHAT DO YOU DO TO A DOMESTIC ABUSER??? THROW HIM THE HELL OUT! OR YOU CAN DO WHAT MANY THINK SHOULD BE DONE TO AN ABUSER... CUT OFF HIS BALLS THEN ROAST HIM! GO ALL THE WAY, WITH BONDAGE TURKEY NAILS AND BONDAGE BUTCHERS TWINE! THEN GRIND IT ALL UP, ADD SOME OTHER ITEMS THAT TRANSFORM HIM INTO a great DOG FOOD recipe! Feed his ass to his FAITHFUL EX, 'Poor Lily! HE DOES NOT DESERVE to have YOU SWALLOWING HIM!
After all that, you should write up the story for the next LUSH STORIES Dominatrix story competition!
This is all just a suggestion. Being male, I would never assume it is my place to tell you what you should do!
(BTW, I love this site!)
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So. Loud has, as of last evening, decided that he should also yell/crow at dusk until someone comes and either scratches his pinfeathers to his satisfaction or cuddles him.

And I did a bunch of reading last night--no crashes--on the topic of chicken intelligence. Turns out no research was done, for a long time, and then someone ran out of mice or macaques or whatever and started to study chickens. And the bastards can learn, can recognize individuals, and--as with Loud's crow sounding more and more like "Good Morning!" every single day--apparently have a limited capacity for speech.

His new trick this morning is unzipping the top of his enclosure/brooder (it's like a little pop up tent, called the Insta-Brooder and sold by Incubator Warehouse), letting himself out, and wandering my fucking dining room. Also, ty for the laugh, Jimbo2.
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Matriarch
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LOLOUD ...

He needs to go on the naughty step (his own run) ... outside!
Troublemaker
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Wait! I've got it. The family moves to the chicken coop and either:
a) Loud follows the family an accepts the coop as its new home at which time the family may stealthily relocate back to the house
b) Loud and the chickens get the house, the family gets the chicken coop. Don't forget the whitewash.
Charming as fuck
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Quote by jimbo2
SERIOUSLY, you claim to be asking members of a sex/erotica website for answers about what to do with a rooster living in your dining room? SO... lets put this into language that this site typically uses!
1) Accept that YOU MUST BE A SUBMISSIVE!
2) Accept that YOU ARE LETTING A ROOSTER, (otherwise known as a male chicken) TO CONTROL AND RULE YOUR LIFE AND HOME!
3) Accept THAT YOU ARE ALLOWING AN AVIAN, CANINE BESTIALITY RELATIONSHIP? You may be poly-amorous, but shouldn't you protect your dog, from this rooster! When this dominating male chicken inevitably "flies the coop", for another dog, or flock (chicken language for chicken harem), leaving your pet "poor Lily" devastated and heartbroken? Don't you try to protect your girlfriends from the "wrong men"?
SOLUTION!; YOU MUST BECOME A DOMINATRIX! This male needs TOUGH LOVE! Do not abuse the bird, but you MUST control him! I suggest he be banished from the house entirely! NO NOT TO THE DOG HOUSE WITH A STUDDED COLLAR! A small coop with one hen perhaps separated at first but within sight. BE TOUGH! STOP TRYING TO TRAIN HIM TO DO TRICKS AS A HOUSE PET! HE DOES NOT DESERVE THIS TREAT! TRAIN HIM FIRST TO "ACCEPT" his real home! Feed him well, he'll eventually accept his lot in life! DO NOT GIVE IN! He'll eventually become used to his mate also. Once you remove the physical barrier between them, and he satisfies his sexual frustration with the hen, he'll probably want a threesome or more! He is male after all! SPECIAL NOTE: YOU MUST ACT DECISIVELY IF THIS COCK TURNS INTO A DICKHEAD! IF THE ROOSTER ABUSES HIS MATE ONCE THE SEPARATION IS REMOVED, .....YOU MUST REMEMBER,......WHAT DO YOU DO TO A DOMESTIC ABUSER??? THROW HIM THE HELL OUT! OR YOU CAN DO WHAT MANY THINK SHOULD BE DONE TO AN ABUSER... CUT OFF HIS BALLS THEN ROAST HIM! GO ALL THE WAY, WITH BONDAGE TURKEY NAILS AND BONDAGE BUTCHERS TWINE! THEN GRIND IT ALL UP, ADD SOME OTHER ITEMS THAT TRANSFORM HIM INTO a great DOG FOOD recipe! Feed his ass to his FAITHFUL EX, 'Poor Lily! HE DOES NOT DESERVE to have YOU SWALLOWING HIM!
After all that, you should write up the story for the next LUSH STORIES Dominatrix story competition!
This is all just a suggestion. Being male, I would never assume it is my place to tell you what you should do!
(BTW, I love this site!)


My name is Jen and I approve this post

Thanks for the giggle.
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So. In the past week or so, Loud has picked up some new tricks, and upped his level of being an asshole.

He's been unzipping his pop-up tent enclosure thing from Incubator Warehouse so he can hop out and run around before flinging himself back inside and trying to play innocent if he hears my footsteps or the front door opening. You know that "some individual chickens can learn to recognise faces, shapes, voices, and other ephemera, and appear to be able to rapidly process that new information and adapt..." thing I sort of referenced earlier? Oh. It's true. I'm starting to think that Crested Cream Legbars are a dying breed b/c they're all assholes.

And I just received a delivery of eight CCL eggs on Friday, and put them in the incubator yesterday, Saturday (you let the eggs settle, so that if the air sac has been broken up during transport, it can coalesce).

Anyway! New vocabulary: a very distinct, as is the "Good morning!", "Loud's a good bird!" at random times of the day, when, you know, I'm trying to sleep/get shit done/on a parent-teacher call. The "Loud's a good bird" phrase is something he's heard since the second I took him out of the incubator, whispering it and kissing his head. Boy howdy was that stupid. It started out fairly indistinct but by Friday morning, was very distinct. Meanwhile, his "Good morning!" is so distinct that neighbour texted me to ask if I could please not yell good morning to the boys until I am inside the house. She legit thinks it's me, and...yah. I didn't correct her thinking.

And the last. Which needs some explanation. My beloved iPhone 6SE died, flat died, maybe ten days ago. So I called T-Mobile, and ended up with a 12 Pro, not because it's fancy (it is, but I will likely never use any of the features it wants me to use) but because it has 512GB of memory. I still do that search and rescue (SAR) and emergency management thing, and when you're out on the ground in SAR, you take a metric shit ton of photographs. So my shiny new phone and Otter Box arrived last Monday, one of the sons put it all together, and...yah, I hate it.

Thing is, there's no home button on the 12 Pro. Which I didn't know, because I am an idiot and just want a cell phone that I can take pictures with, make and receive calls with, and use to send and receive texts. You have to have your thumb or fingers in exactly the right place and then swipe up, exerting quite a lot of pressure. That part is difficult, on account of a great deal of the tendons and ligaments in my hands (and elsewhere) not being original parts; they've been replaced over the years with cadaver tissue. If you would like to know why, please PM me. So I can nail an 18 gauge IV blindfolded, but I can't unlock this phone.

All of this has led to me walking around and swearing wayyyy more than usual--with "Fuck it!" being my go-to. So guess who now walks around muttering (cooing?) "fuckitfuckitfuckitFUCKIT"? It is not the dog! He usually says this most distinctly when he is arranging himself for sleep on his K&H Thermo-Chicken heating pad, pulling wood chips and other bedding over himself so he can sleep on his back or on his side, legs and back outstretched. You know, like a totally normal chicken would sleep.

Any way. Pics. And no, I still am not smart enough to rotate the images. The first pic is Loud eyeballing the phone (fun fact: chickens take shit selfies!) and the second is a few minutes later when he's falling asleep. I'm wearing the heavy woolen coat because a)I'm cheap and b)Loud likes to bury himself against me, under that coat, and fall asleep.



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Troublemaker
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Perhaps its simply time for the final chapter. Acceptance. Loud assists Hera with editing her stories.
Sexy Seductive Siren
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Quote by LYFBUZ


Perhaps its simply time for the final chapter. Acceptance. Loud assists Hera with editing her stories.


Also, a way to put an end to all those conspiracy stories about the Moderators showing favoritism in story approvals, competitions, etc. I mean, who can be more neutral than a chicken picking out stories that deserve RRs, EPs, or make in the top ten of comps? I knew Hera Teleia had an ulterior motive.
Meagan
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Quote by Meagananne1986


Also, a way to put an end to all those conspiracy stories about the Moderators showing favoritism in story approvals, competitions, etc. I mean, who can be more neutral than a chicken picking out stories that deserve RRs, EPs, or make in the top ten of comps? I knew Hera Teleia had an ulterior motive.


Okay...yah no. No. I am not teaching this chicken (remember the "recognise shapes" thing) to read. No. Although it may be too late, Loud is sitting on my lap as I type this, eyeballing the screen. Trust me, given the power to read, I doubt he would be neutral.
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Sexy Seductive Siren
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I know of one else who could train that rooster to grow beyond itself that you Hera Teleia. What's the old saying, if you can't beat them, join them? Ha Ha
Meagan
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JFC. I come home to this:




Those are two not fully grown Bielefelder hens (they're super slow to mature, but are huge, dual purpose chickens) eyeballing Loud through the patio door window, plus Ruth (a Barnevelder, another threatened breed), or at least half of her (she's the darker one) and another Bielefelder's butt.

I'm living in a damn horror movie.
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Normal Adjacent
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I know this is serious for you, but I appreciate your sense of humor in dealing with some aspects of your rooster problem.

Reading through this thread has made my day. On the one hand, I hope your chicken problems are resolved soon, but on the other, I want to keep reading about them. Thank you for sharing.
Troublemaker
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Quote by HeraTeleia
JFC. I come home to this:




Those are two not fully grown Bielefelder hens (they're super slow to mature, but are huge, dual purpose chickens) eyeballing Loud through the patio door window, plus Ruth (a Barnevelder, another threatened breed), or at least half of her (she's the darker one) and another Bielefelder's butt.

I'm living in a damn horror movie.


Loud has his own coterie of dirty girls hovering at his window? Damn I'm impressed.
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Sips tea... This is highly entertaining. I don't want to give advice and watch the show.

You may have to accept that Loud is the new head of the house, the feed winner if you will. There's a chicken harem of rare, [s]exotic[/s] endangered hens begging for his cock (he is a cock) outside for crying out loud. LOL

And 'Good morning,' squawks he. omg. At least you'll never need an alarm clock again?
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No, no. Here's the thing. Bielefelder Kennhuhn, a breed developed in Gerrmany in the 1970's, isn't common--anywhere--but is not considered a heritage or rare breed because of the relatively recent development of the breed, and because there are relatively large flocks of them, from many different lines, in some places.

Barnevelder, which is what Ruth is, truly is a threatened breed. They're Dutch and much like the Svart Hona, which I also had (and sold, thank G-d; they're assholes), they're developed from a landrace predecessor. I'm writing a fucking dissertation on chickens here.

Crested Cream Legbars, a rare breed/"breed of concern", are a breed of chicken developed in the UK a couple six hundred years or so ago. Like the Dorking and the Sussex (and a hundred or more other breeds in the developed world), the number of flocks plummeted following WWII, when factory farming became a thing and harvesting eggs no longer involved actual chickens--just pick your box of twelve or eighteen or twenty four identical, white eggs, and call it good.

So I can't put Loud out with the Bielefelder. Those hens? They're not even fully grown (the reason for their lack of popularity despite being prolific egg producers and cold hardy, plus being "dual purpose", meaning they're also meaty), and won't be for about another four months, give or take. Even now though, the two "chicklets", the ones that hatched about two weeks after Ruth, are easily twice the weight of Loud.

Ruth was (like Loud) the sole survivor of an incubator failure. She's funny as fuck--among the different feeders is a hopper type, and she shoulders aside the much larger Bielefelder hens and literally climbs into the hopper. She's named after Ruth Bader Ginsburg (may blessings be upon her name), because as a chick, she was very....opinionated. Angry? Chicks don't like to be alone. You could hear her yelling from outside of the actual house. And she hatched the same day Justice Ginsburg (may blessings be upon her name) passed.

So. I've tried multiple times and in multiple ways to put Loud out with the Bielefelder hens and Ruth. Every time, he's literally been run into hiding. I had no idea that hens could be so aggressive. Ruth especially, no idea why, but the hens have legit run an actual raccoon up a tree (Lily woke me up, trying to get outside to get said raccoon). Loud has no chance--left outside alone (with Lily, because we have both raptors and four-legged predators, which is something I love about living here), he ends up hiding in ivy, bushes, the hose reels, anything that will allow him to be very, very still until a human comes and calls his name.

I've ordered a second Aleko coop and run and have six Crested Cream Legbar eggs on day six/seven of incubation. Since shipped eggs tend to have a live hatch rate of between 75% (very good) and 0%, crap if I know what I'll end up with. I did try to purchase day old straight run CCL chicks from Murray McMurray, a hatchery I trust, but so far, no luck.

Okay kids, dissertation over, go visit The Livestock Conservancy site and try not to end up with a cow!
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Update: Loud is still in my fucking dining room. Now he has a very distinct "Good Morning", "Loud's a good bird" plus something that sounds like "Leave it!" (a command used with both Lily and the two Anatolian Shepherd Dog fosters) and of course, the mumbled "fuckitfuckitfuckit FUCK IT!"

Fun times. Plus the fosters, being Anatolians and therefore unlike Great Pyrenees not inclined to protect small livestock, saw Loud and thought "food". Fanfuckingtastic.

So. One of them went for Loud Saturday evening...not a good choice. Lily came flying (literally, she jumped a chair rather than go around it in her haste) for the foster the second she heard Loud squawk, and my Saturday evening went from "okay-ish" to "absolute fucking chaos" in approximately 0.6 seconds. Did I mention that the other foster joined in, because why not? He did.

Picture 300-odd pounds of bared teeth and absolute fury and determination plus furniture being knocked over and did I mention the teeth? Anyway. Picture that and you've about got it.

Loud is fine. Lily is fine. One of the fosters required multiple sutures in his neck (this is the one who went for Loud, and when an Anatolian Shepherd Dog is defending whatever, they do not mess around), the other foster suffered only some abrasions from being thrown against the fireplace hearth a couple of times, by Lily.

I managed to secure both fosters and Loud within about 3 minutes, give or take a couple minutes. I was cleaning up the blood and kept coming up with more and more, thinking, I just cleaned that up. There was more! A lot more, as it turned out.

In my focus on making sure Loud, then Lily were okay, and then assessing the fosters, I failed to notice that my 5.11 ripstop tactical/practical pants had a couple of puncture points on the right side. And that my right clog was entirely filled with and spilling over with blood. Which is why as much as I cleaned up, there was more on the floor. I'd been bitten, twice, during the maelstrom. At least one of the two bites went clear through to the fibula, fracturing said fibula.

Anyway. Loud is fine, Lily is fine, the fosters will never come near a chicken again since apparently they all have their own protection detail. Me, I have a couple four dozen sutures, am in a "walking" cast until the wounds heal and the fibula can be surgically pinned.

Like I said, fun times.
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Troublemaker
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JFC is right. You have a huge heart Jennifer but fractured tibia and stitches? I don't have any where near your patience or tolerance. Hope you are feeling better.
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Quote by LYFBUZ
JFC is right. You have a huge heart Jennifer but fractured tibia and stitches? I don't have any where near your patience or tolerance. Hope you are feeling better.


Not to quibble, but you know me. It's the right fibula not the tibia. *shrugging* The fibula is the least substantial of all the long bones in the body--it's very slender, and on the lateral side of the tibia, which is much more substantial. Lateral side...that's, ermm, the outside (?). The bone closest to your hand if you were to put your hand on the outside of your calf.

And this is the second time something like this has happened--I don't know, a couple five years ago? I had one neutered male foster (all of the fosters are neutered) Great Pyrenees, who was doing fine, right up until he wasn't doing fine. R. was walking by him and he lifted his lip and growled. R. jumped back, Norman (RIP, my heart dog and also a Great Pyrenees) saw it or heard the growl or something and came flying from wherever he was, knocking over R. (Pyrs use their bodies both to push whatever they're guarding out of the way, and also to fight) and yup, it was on.

Two male Great Pyrenees going at it is not...it's terrifying. Normally they will use their bodies to knock over and pin their opponent, but that wasn't happening, and I had, I don't know, 300 lbs. of white fur and teeth fighting to kill--that's a thing, if a Pyr can't deter a threat through other options, like barking or attempting to pin the threat, they will fight literally to the death rather than allow the threat to reach whomever or whatever they've decided to protect.

A lot of rescue surrenders of both Pyrs and Anatolians are d/t the fact that they come off as stubborn; they're not. They're just very old breeds (the Great Pyrenees is thought to be about 6000 years old, and is one of the only working breeds to develop entirely without human intervention) and they make their own decisions. While Anatolians are slightly more receptive to training, d/t being bred to both guard and herd, neither breed will actively look to a human for direction if faced with something they consider a threat. Lily is super unusual, as she is wayyyy more human oriented than any other Anatolian I've ever worked with, but I adopted her as a puppy through the national breed rescue, and I did a lot of obedience work with her, so maybe that's it.

Anyway. In this case, with both Pyrs going full Pyrenean Bear Mode in my damn kitchen, I grabbed a chair and tried to separate them. Nope. It ended with both dogs alive only because I was able to grab the foster by the Lupine tab leash all my dogs wear, and me crating him, and because Norman complied with my "leave it" and backed off.

Same thing happened--I didn't realise that I'd been injured until I was done checking Norman over, trying to figure out where the blood on his coat was coming from, before realising that the blood wasn't his, it was mine. Went to the ED because my left leg just would not stop bleeding, and it was found that the single bite had penetrated clear to the tibia, and I'd sustained a partial fracture. Still have the scars from that one. Pyrs are unusual (and I'm lucky) in that they don't bite and hold or bite and shake, so I was lucky, there was no deep tissue damage, aside from the fracture.

The foster was not adopted out, as I was about 90% that he was the one who bit me, and given his lip lifting and growling, he was considered a bite risk, and we can't adopt out dogs with a possible or known bite history.

Apologies for the dissertation, and thank you for the well wishes. I'm fine.
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