I look back over my shoulder. Maybe in my mindless gallop I had left the lady behind. I turn around, shrugging, and go back to the ranch.
The wooden sign greets me warmly as I click to Outlaw... a clear sign of "let's get moving". Dad and the ranch hands are loading hay into the bed of the...
Again, neither of us can see the damage. My guess is that she'd better be culled, but That's up to the chicken's owner.
I'm not real experienced in Avians. I'm more experienced in equine and bovine.
All I ask is that you do not condescend to me.
That seems severe. With all those symptoms, I'd say there's a 5% chance of her surviving.
Again, I'm not an official vet. Yet.
Well, see ya, people. The critters are aching to be fed.
I'm a vet-in-training. Since I'm not there to see her injuries, I can't give you an accurate guess but from her symptoms, she seems about ready to hit the bucket.
Can you post a picture, MsChickenMomma?
I am not trying to offend you here, but who would want to live if they are in that much pain? I don't know if you are religious, but there's a better place up there. This world is just a stop on the ride to where we really belong.
Tell me that I have a hard heart, go ahead, but if Sunni got her skull mashed, her chances of living a healthy, happy life are about 0.009%. I would cull her, but that's probably because I don't get real attached to my avian-type livestock, although I love Moose the Goose very much.
"He says thank you," I say. "I'm Willow."
Outlaw whinnies, and I lean forward to give him another apple. He tosses his head to get his forelock out of the way, and snatches it out of my palm.
"If you want to see the prospects, get your car." I say.
I walk out of the cafe, and mount Outlaw, but not before wiping the snow off the saddle with my red kercheif.