I have a confession to make……yesterday I had my fingers up a chicken that was still alive!…the day started fairly normally, apart from Wilma (Hen 2) looking a wee bit under
the weather. No usual perky flapping of wings, more a feeble scratch at the ground and hung head; I wasnt overly worried until she seemed to be ehmm…..straining to no avail and her back-end was pasty and less than pristine.A quick search of some learned fowl sites on Dr Google told me I should “check the vent for blockage, and clear any obstacles found”…..well the only obstacles I could think of (other than a blocked egg) was the objection I had to sticking my fingers up the back-end of poor Wilma.
The helpful site also suggested that a bath in warm water may help her relax, and that the addition of Epsom salts would further soothe her to relaxation point . Well , fond of Wilma as I am, i wasnt about to be sharing my bath with her, so an al fresco basin for her and some rubber gloves for me would have to suffice.
I have to say she didn’t seem to mind the warm water and she appeared more calm than me, or maybe that was a ‘frozen” look on her face; so I boldly went where no woman had gone before (with Wilma) and adopted a gynecological approach to the chicken exploration, clearing whatever I found that didn’t seem to belong there. Himself” watched on, giving me moral support from a safe distance, with a mixture of disgust and admiration on his face……not sure there is enough disinfectant in the world to get that image out of his head [Note to self: don’t offer to make him pastry by hand any time soon].
Wilma is on the mend, and getting special treatment and scraps, after all, we are now on more intimate terms and I will treasure (and enjoy) her eggs, knowing the effort she goes to produce the miracle that turns grain and food scraps into a protein packed orb. * I learned, and was mindful that you only get back what you put in!