Another old post – Summer 2023
Cobweb has been ailing for quite some time now. She was always an inordinately hefty hen — solid, reassuringly weighty in the hand, the sort of bird you never worried about. Then, slowly, that changed.
After a couple of bouts of sour crop, the weight began to fall away from her. Shockingly fast. The hen who had once felt robust became almost weightless, light as a feather, and just as fragile. More worrying than her size was her spirit — she was clearly unhappy. Head down, tail down, withdrawn from the world around her, as though she’d already started to disappear.
There were moments that genuinely frightened us. A couple of times we talked seriously about calling the vet, and a couple of times we were convinced she’d gone altogether. We’d approach her and she would be utterly lifeless, so still that your heart would sink before she even stirred. Those are the moments that make you question everything — whether you’re doing enough, whether you’re doing the right thing, whether perseverance is kindness or cruelty.
But we kept going.
We hand-fed her when she didn’t have the strength to eat on her own. We bathed her, carefully and patiently, trying to bring her some comfort and relief. We watched, waited, hoped. Recovery, if it was coming at all, was painfully slow.
And then Andy noticed something we’d overlooked.
Cobweb wasn’t just struggling with illness — she was being bullied.
The bullying was persistent and targeted, and for a bird already weakened, it was devastating. Every attempt her body made to heal was being undermined by constant stress and attack. Once that behaviour was spotted, the decision was obvious. The worst culprits were separated so they could no longer get at her.
Almost immediately, things began to change.
Without the constant pressure, without the fear and harassment, little Cobs started to thrive. Her posture lifted. Her energy returned. The spark came back into her eyes. Given space, safety, and peace, her body finally had the chance to do what it had been trying to do all along — recover.
And that’s the part that matters.
Sometimes it isn’t weakness that breaks us. Sometimes it isn’t even illness. Sometimes it’s the environment we’re forced to exist in — the negativity, the criticism, the bullying that chips away at us until there’s nothing left to give.
So separate yourself from anyone who is not a positive influence in your life. You will thrive when you remove harmful people from your sphere. And if that separation can’t be done physically, then do it emotionally. Create distance. Protect yourself. You are allowed to disconnect in order to survive.
The photos say it all — Cobs when she was ill, head and tail down, looking utterly defeated. And Cobs now: a happy, healthy little bird.
Same hen. Different environment. Entirely different outcome.
Chicken Nuggets 