I am sure, Flossie and my others — Susie, Helen, and Summer — were aware of each other, despite the barrier of mesh between them. After a week of this, when the chooks had all gone to roost, I placed Flossie on the perch in the main coop. When we woke up we found that she was being pecked on by the others, almost as if they had decided to take turns at having a go at her.
I distracted them with food. But soon they were back to their nasty ways. Just watch them.
That night, Flossie kept a safe distance from the others.
And the next day was the same.
So I put Flossie in isolation again for a day and a night and got rewarded with a little egg of gratitude.
I tried one more time to put the birds together with the same result — Flossie being incessantly targeted.
Husband Philip suggested we try putting her alone with one of the birds in the large coop; so I moved a protesting Helen and an indignant Summer to the small coop. In the morning Susie promptly began chasing Flossie around. Will Philip’s hope materialise, that handling one bully at a time, Flossie may win over her opponents — that spending time with her one on one, and that too in a large coop, the hens will learn to accept her.
After a day of playing cat and mouse, you can see Susie and Flossie fast asleep with the whole perch to themselves.
Maybe poor Flossie is strange in some way, which makes other chickens shun her. Maybe that was why she had escaped her previous home and was roaming around Clendon. Or maybe her previous owner, finding her unmanageable, had let her go.
Courage to tremble 