Stitchin' Chicken in the Kitchen

I was at our neighbor’s barn as I am every weekday afternoon, taking care of the two Appaloosas, Nick and Takoda, when Kelsey called on my cell phone to ask when I was coming home.

“Why?”

“Because a hawk came after the chickens and one of them was fighting it. The dogs chased it off. I don’t think it got anyone.”

As I quickly walked back down the hill, I thought which of the chickens I valued the most. Certainly Buffy, our friendly Buff Orpington, is a family favorite. Nestlé lays dark chocolate-brown eggs; I’d driven to a poultry show specifically to get a Copper Maran pullet so I’d hate to lose her. I went through the 16 chickens in my mind and concluded that the ones I would miss the least would be the two Silver Spangled Hamburg hens. The Hamburgs are small and flighty, not very attractive physically, skittish. I’ve never been too attached to them. Our Hamburg’s names are Righty and Tighty, so named because Righty’s tail sticks up like a sail, but angles to the right. Tighty got her name by default. We do have a Lucy, the Rhode Island Red, but no Lefty. And yes, all 16 of our chickens have names.

As fate would have it, Kelsey and I found black and white spotted feathers where she’d seen the hawk on the ground. I recognized them as those of a Hamburg hen. Kelsey happened to be seated near the window when the attack occurred, but didn’t realize the hawk was actually a hawk because it was so small, smaller than many of our chickens in fact. Fortunately, our dogs, Chardonnay and Coraline, raised the alarm, causing Kelsey to look up and see the hawk struggling with a hen while the rest of the flock ran for cover.

She let the dogs outside and the hawk flew to a nearby tree and perched there, watching and probably a bit miffed. The chickens all scurried under the deck and Aslan, our rooster, placed himself between his flock and the entrance. Too bad Aslan wasn’t with those particular hens when the hawk came down, but I imagine the hawk planned it that way; attack the smaller hens who were by themselves, away from the rooster. Roosters are wonderful flock protectors and Aslan was purchased over a year ago specifically because he is the size of a large hawk. He also happens to be a beautiful bird and a real gentleman toward his girls and his humans.

I threw scratch on the ground and called the chickens out from hiding so we could count them. We were missing a Hamburg hen. Kelsey spotted her under the bush by the deck, alive but obviously not herself. It was Righty. Nervous when I got closer to her, Righty walked gingerly under the deck, and planted herself next to the house, far out of reach. She didn’t respond when I tossed food her way. Not good. I figured we’d stress her out totally if we tried to flush her out and catch her. Catching her would be nearly impossible given her skittish nature to begin with.

So we watched and waited until the sun started to go down and the chickens came home to roost in their coop. Righty was able to jump up on a perch where she was easy to catch. Once I had her, Jay and I examined Righty’s body. Initially, she seemed fine; some feathers missing, wings okay.

“She’ll be fine. She’s just traumatized,” Jay proclaimed.

“Check her belly” I said as I tipped Righty over. “Uh oh. He got her good.”

I brought Righty in the house where we had better light. There was a wound about one-inch in diameter which ripped her lower abdomen clear open. We could see body parts in there. I’m not sure what I was looking at, but Jay said the yellow stuff I saw was fat. No blood though. Even though I wasn’t sure that her organs weren’t punctured, I knew we needed to do something. It was 7:30 pm and the vet I’d taken a chicken to before would be closed. Kelsey came in, looked at the gaping hole in the bird and freaked out as only a teenage girl can do. Still holding Righty upside-down in a tight grip, I calmed Kelsey down and instructed her as our assistant.

Next thing you know, peroxide has been poured over the wound, feathers have been clipped back, and Kelsey is keeping Righty and herself calm by keeping both of their heads in the dark. After a false start with a dull needle and fishing line, Jay stitched her up with teal blue thread (easier to see to remove later) and a new needle from my sewing kit. Antibiotic ointment was applied, a chicken’s dosage of amoxicillin was syringed into her beak and Righty was put safely back outside on the perch in the coop.

After the surgery was over, Kelsey headed upstairs to her room, “Well, that’s enough adventure for now.”

Two days later, Righty seems sore, but is eating, drinking and getting around well. There is reason to hope that she’ll be fine.



Righty, Hawk Attack Survivor

Roller Coaster of Life

The past week or so has been an emotional roller coaster for my family and me.  In one day, I found out three bad things happened.  Logan, the service dog I blogged about last year when she and her owners came to visit their future kitten, had surgery to remove her oral cancer.  I had just been thinking about Logan the day before as I hiked through the woods with our Golden Retriever, Chardonnay.  Logan is not only valuable because of the job she does for her person Suzan, but she is a beautiful, gentle animal who captured my heart when I met her.  I will continue to think positive thoughts for Logan as she goes through treatment. 

The same day, we got news that Kristen, my kids' cousin, was very sick and in the hospital.  It turns out she apparently had toxic shock syndrome and her condition was very serious.  I'm happy to report that Kristen is now home and doing better. 

Then, Kelsey came home from school with the news that Mr. Conlon, a Ledyard High School math teacher was found dead in the woods after missing for two days.  Mr. Conlon had hanged himself.  Fortunately, Kelsey never knew Mr. Conlon, but Tyler considered him the best math teacher he ever had so he was pretty upset.  We don't understand the full story behind Mr. Conlon's pain and don't expect to; he had a wife and 10-year-old daughter he left behind.  The students and teachers who loved him are confused as to why a grown-up who apparently had everything going for him would take his own life. 

Then, my mother called to report that she had an MRI done to look at the half of her liver which was subjected to chemoembolization treatment in September.  The MRI shows that all signs of cancer on that half of her liver are gone!  This is the same liver that was "covered in malignant lesions" originally.  Modern medicine is incredibly hopeful sometimes.  Mom had the other half of her liver zapped yesterday in Chapel Hill.  The same positive results are expected by her doctors.  I started a blog (what else?) for my mom soon after she was diagnosed called The Organ Within Me to keep her friends and family updated.  My mother's news was certainly a welcome change from the way things seemed to be going early last week.

On Saturday afternoon, as I stepped out of the shower, Olivia greeted me with repeated meows.  Hmmmm.  She definitely wanted my attention.  Olivia's kittens weren't due for another two days at least....but there was no mistaking her urgent behavior.  Sure enough, within a couple of hours, we had a blue tabby boy.  Next came a solid black girl.  "Mine!" Kelsey immediately claimed.  Kelsey has been wanting a solid black Maine Coon ever since we lost our black domestic short-hair, Creole, a few years ago to kidney disease. 

Kelsey left the room and I called a friend to report the arrivals so far while Olivia rested and waited for the next round of contractions.  I had predicted, based upon Olivia's size, that she was carrying 3 to 4 kittens.  As I was happily chatting away, Jay came in and indicated with a finger drawn across his throat that I should cut the conversation short.  After I got off the phone, he told me that while he was outside, he witnessed a hawk striking our red Silkie chicken, Frodo, killing her instantly.  He was too far away at the time to prevent the attack, but Jay and Chardonnay did manage to keep the hawk from carrying Frodo's body away. 

We only had Frodo for slightly more than 6 months, but during that time we came to care for her deeply because she was so obviously handicapped.  I've blogged about Frodo a few times, in fact my last blog was about Frodo and her first egg.  True to her nature, Frodo was out in the yard by herself, the rest of the flock was elsewhere.  She had no idea the hawk was approaching.  Of all the chickens to meet such an awful demise, we ask, "Why our favorite one?" all the while knowing that she was the most likely to be attacked as she was more vulnerable than the other chickens.  Frodo is now buried beside Kelsey's favorite rock.  We don't have to worry about her anymore, put her up to roost at night because she can't fly up there by herself, look around for her well after the rest of the flock has come in, provide her with a ground-level nesting box for her eggs....it's amazing how one little chicken stole our hearts with her neediness and cute little squawking face. 

Frodo's Grave Marker

After the news of Frodo's death and consoling a very distraught teenage girl, I still had to deliver Olivia's kittens.  She had 3 more - a black boy, another black girl, and a silver tabby boy (bonus!).  All are big and healthy and growing like they're supposed to.  We have a choice of 3 black kittens to choose from for our breeding program.  It makes more sense to keep a girl, but then again, a solid black male who looks like his grandfather Bugger would be hard to pass up.  Kelsey came up with a Poet theme so the kittens are named accordingly:  Edgar Allen Poe, Shel Silverstein, Maya Angelou, Alice Walker, and Langston Hughes. 

And so we move forward, accepting that we can't change the past, just how we deal with it.  Here's to the emotional roller coaster of life and all that it offers. 

Olivia with Her Little Poets