I'm still really upset about this for many reasons, but at least it's not like the first day...I couldn't handle having anyone around me.
On Thursday around 5pm I get a panicked call from my guy, saying that he heard the chickens making a horrible noise and the neighbor's dog barking like crazy. He said he ran out and found a pile of feathers in the neighbor's yard and my gut just dropped. The yard is fenced, but apparently my little jackasses figured out how to get over the fence again. Yes, again. There is a low spot that I found after all five of my hens ended up in the neighbor's yard (fortunately their dog was inside). I blocked off that area of the fence, but I'm guessing the two youngest could flap hard enough that they could fly over in a spot that wasn't as low, which explains why the three older (and heavier) pullets couldn't go trespassing.
In any case, he said the three oldest pullets were huddling on our side of the fence, terrified, but he could only find one of my Light Brahma chicks. The dog is still barking like crazy and he's incredibly upset. I'm even more upset because I'm stuck at work for another half hour and can't leave early since I'm the only one there. FINALLY I can leave work, and I get home to immediately start scanning the area. I see one of the Peeps safely on our side, huddled on the ground and not looking happy. But...I hear peeping from the pile of branches and leaves on the neighbor's yard! I dig around a bit and find that the other Peep had wedged itself pretty well in there, but I manage to yank out Fluff. I look Fluff over to see a big bald spot on his (yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a he with how red Fluff's face is compared to Foof's, which means I have to give him up since there's no way I can have 5 am crowing in a neighborhood) butt, with a few tiny blood marks from where feathers got ripped out, but that's it! Uncharacteristically for Fluff, he snuggled up to me and tucked his head under my arm, cheeping quietly. Usually that's Foof's deal, but I figure Fluff needed some comfort. I decide to take Fluff inside and clip the little booger's wing right after Fluff rests a bit. I did so with no issues, and relieved that things went so well, I brought Fluff outside, who immediately hopped onto the ground and started eating with his tail straight up in the air all proud of himself, a great sign!
I go over to Foof and pick her up, I see no feathers missing from her, and I begin to clip her wings. Every now and again she lets out a pained peep, but I thought it was from me holding her wing awkwardly since that's the second time I've ever clipped. I put her down and she sticks near me, which is common for her. I clip the three pullets for good measure, and notice that Pogue is giving Foof the hairy eyeball, and trying to pester her. I pick up Foof again but this time I feel something wet. I look at my right hand and see blood, and I'm just gutted. I take a look underneath her and I see chicken breast...Like actual chicken breast muscle, no skin at all, and I freak out. The poor thing huddles against me as I take her inside and look up the vet's number. I find out that it will cost $80 just to get her seen since it was emergency hours, and I said fine because she definitely needed stitches. While she has blood on her right foot, it's fairly dry and she's not dripping blood so I have hopes that she'll make it. While sitting on hold as the guy on the phone tries to find out if they have someone who can handle such an exotic animal as a chicken, I think about the wound. It's not on her head, back, or tail, which indicates it wasn't the dog itself that got her, like with Fluff, but it's the right side of her chest. I'm guessing that she ripped herself open on the fence trying to squeeze through it.
I get to the vet, cursing every bump in the road that makes her peep in pain, but glad at the same time that she's alive, snug in her towel in the box on the passenger side of my car. I finally get to the vet's (and WHY does every moron in the world pull right in front of me when I have to get somewhere fast?) and I give the vet student all of Foof's information while she's examined in another room. I was told that because she's technically a "food animal" that they can't give her pain medication, and I point out that even if she was food for me, it would be a few years before she'd be eating weight since she's a slow maturing breed, and several months before laying. Also, as a Light Brahma she'd probably be considered an ornamental bird, and she reassured me that they were looking up any loopholes they could use.
Eventually the people looking her over come to me and tell me just how bad it is. She was pretty much ripped open from throat all the way down to her leg, leaving her artery and crop exposed but not damaged (else she would already be dead). Because of the extensive damage, they have to wait for their exotic animals vet to come back tomorrow since she was leaving right then, which means they would need to keep Foof overnight to give her subcutaneous fluids, then put her under general anesthesia and stitch her up tomorrow. The cost? $500-$600, and again I'm gutted. I love my little Foof, she's absolutely adorable with how she would follow me around demanding to be picked up so she could nap in my arms, or how she'd preen my hair and chirr in contentment. But I simply don't have that kind of money laying around, and they would need it in full by the next day. I ask them about putting her down, and they said there's a third option...The vet has a flock of her own, and was willing to take Food, perform surgery on her, and take her home to join her flock if I would sign her over. I ask for a moment, and they leave so I can text my guy. He says to do the surgery on her, he'll pay half. I argue that we have the rest of the flock plus our cat to think of, and we can't just spend hundreds of dollars on a chicken that cost a couple of dollars to get. I HATE reducing it to monetary value, but there's a line that has to be drawn and she passed it by over $200. (Yes, if they told me it would cost $300 to fix her, I probably would have done it, as ridiculous as that sounds to some).
So that's how the story ends. I sign over my little Foof in the hopes that she will heal and find a new home, and walk away without her and $80 poorer. I miss her far more than the money. And now I'm crying again. I had to write this here where most of you would understand. I feel like I can't talk about it to anyone else. My guy, because he feels guilty even though it wasn't his fault at all, he had even checked on them earlier, and I don't want to make him feel worse. My other friends are sympathetic, but it IS a chicken, and I don't really expect them to understand. I saw her EVERY day for two months now, watched her grow and develop a personality. It's so incredibly unfair that she is the one that is taken away from me, instead of the pullet that hates me, or, as bad as it sounds, Fluff, since I'll have to get rid of him anyway.
On Thursday around 5pm I get a panicked call from my guy, saying that he heard the chickens making a horrible noise and the neighbor's dog barking like crazy. He said he ran out and found a pile of feathers in the neighbor's yard and my gut just dropped. The yard is fenced, but apparently my little jackasses figured out how to get over the fence again. Yes, again. There is a low spot that I found after all five of my hens ended up in the neighbor's yard (fortunately their dog was inside). I blocked off that area of the fence, but I'm guessing the two youngest could flap hard enough that they could fly over in a spot that wasn't as low, which explains why the three older (and heavier) pullets couldn't go trespassing.
In any case, he said the three oldest pullets were huddling on our side of the fence, terrified, but he could only find one of my Light Brahma chicks. The dog is still barking like crazy and he's incredibly upset. I'm even more upset because I'm stuck at work for another half hour and can't leave early since I'm the only one there. FINALLY I can leave work, and I get home to immediately start scanning the area. I see one of the Peeps safely on our side, huddled on the ground and not looking happy. But...I hear peeping from the pile of branches and leaves on the neighbor's yard! I dig around a bit and find that the other Peep had wedged itself pretty well in there, but I manage to yank out Fluff. I look Fluff over to see a big bald spot on his (yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a he with how red Fluff's face is compared to Foof's, which means I have to give him up since there's no way I can have 5 am crowing in a neighborhood) butt, with a few tiny blood marks from where feathers got ripped out, but that's it! Uncharacteristically for Fluff, he snuggled up to me and tucked his head under my arm, cheeping quietly. Usually that's Foof's deal, but I figure Fluff needed some comfort. I decide to take Fluff inside and clip the little booger's wing right after Fluff rests a bit. I did so with no issues, and relieved that things went so well, I brought Fluff outside, who immediately hopped onto the ground and started eating with his tail straight up in the air all proud of himself, a great sign!
I go over to Foof and pick her up, I see no feathers missing from her, and I begin to clip her wings. Every now and again she lets out a pained peep, but I thought it was from me holding her wing awkwardly since that's the second time I've ever clipped. I put her down and she sticks near me, which is common for her. I clip the three pullets for good measure, and notice that Pogue is giving Foof the hairy eyeball, and trying to pester her. I pick up Foof again but this time I feel something wet. I look at my right hand and see blood, and I'm just gutted. I take a look underneath her and I see chicken breast...Like actual chicken breast muscle, no skin at all, and I freak out. The poor thing huddles against me as I take her inside and look up the vet's number. I find out that it will cost $80 just to get her seen since it was emergency hours, and I said fine because she definitely needed stitches. While she has blood on her right foot, it's fairly dry and she's not dripping blood so I have hopes that she'll make it. While sitting on hold as the guy on the phone tries to find out if they have someone who can handle such an exotic animal as a chicken, I think about the wound. It's not on her head, back, or tail, which indicates it wasn't the dog itself that got her, like with Fluff, but it's the right side of her chest. I'm guessing that she ripped herself open on the fence trying to squeeze through it.
I get to the vet, cursing every bump in the road that makes her peep in pain, but glad at the same time that she's alive, snug in her towel in the box on the passenger side of my car. I finally get to the vet's (and WHY does every moron in the world pull right in front of me when I have to get somewhere fast?) and I give the vet student all of Foof's information while she's examined in another room. I was told that because she's technically a "food animal" that they can't give her pain medication, and I point out that even if she was food for me, it would be a few years before she'd be eating weight since she's a slow maturing breed, and several months before laying. Also, as a Light Brahma she'd probably be considered an ornamental bird, and she reassured me that they were looking up any loopholes they could use.
Eventually the people looking her over come to me and tell me just how bad it is. She was pretty much ripped open from throat all the way down to her leg, leaving her artery and crop exposed but not damaged (else she would already be dead). Because of the extensive damage, they have to wait for their exotic animals vet to come back tomorrow since she was leaving right then, which means they would need to keep Foof overnight to give her subcutaneous fluids, then put her under general anesthesia and stitch her up tomorrow. The cost? $500-$600, and again I'm gutted. I love my little Foof, she's absolutely adorable with how she would follow me around demanding to be picked up so she could nap in my arms, or how she'd preen my hair and chirr in contentment. But I simply don't have that kind of money laying around, and they would need it in full by the next day. I ask them about putting her down, and they said there's a third option...The vet has a flock of her own, and was willing to take Food, perform surgery on her, and take her home to join her flock if I would sign her over. I ask for a moment, and they leave so I can text my guy. He says to do the surgery on her, he'll pay half. I argue that we have the rest of the flock plus our cat to think of, and we can't just spend hundreds of dollars on a chicken that cost a couple of dollars to get. I HATE reducing it to monetary value, but there's a line that has to be drawn and she passed it by over $200. (Yes, if they told me it would cost $300 to fix her, I probably would have done it, as ridiculous as that sounds to some).
So that's how the story ends. I sign over my little Foof in the hopes that she will heal and find a new home, and walk away without her and $80 poorer. I miss her far more than the money. And now I'm crying again. I had to write this here where most of you would understand. I feel like I can't talk about it to anyone else. My guy, because he feels guilty even though it wasn't his fault at all, he had even checked on them earlier, and I don't want to make him feel worse. My other friends are sympathetic, but it IS a chicken, and I don't really expect them to understand. I saw her EVERY day for two months now, watched her grow and develop a personality. It's so incredibly unfair that she is the one that is taken away from me, instead of the pullet that hates me, or, as bad as it sounds, Fluff, since I'll have to get rid of him anyway.
