Blair appears okay now, but I had a few heart-stopping moments. Temps are and have been in the double-digits below zero. When I released the runners this morning for breakfast (I don't feed them or give them water in the shelter), everyone ran out except Blair.
She had been quiet until she saw me. Skittish even for a runner, she had her wings outstretched and began frantically quacking. Blair had relieved herself and failed to move away from the poop, which froze solid to the floor and her.
As soon as I realized she was stuck, I was able to gently pry her feet loose with my hands. But her butt didn't move. I ran to the kitchen and heated a microwavable wrap. Almost as soon as I put it next to her, she was free. I think it had much less to do with the wrap and more to do with her reluctance to have me touch her.
She left behind a pile of frozen poop, a few feathers and a spot of blood no larger than the head of a pin. She joined the flock outdoors and scarfed down breakfast.
I've never had anything like this happen before, and I hope it's the ONLY time.
She had been quiet until she saw me. Skittish even for a runner, she had her wings outstretched and began frantically quacking. Blair had relieved herself and failed to move away from the poop, which froze solid to the floor and her.
As soon as I realized she was stuck, I was able to gently pry her feet loose with my hands. But her butt didn't move. I ran to the kitchen and heated a microwavable wrap. Almost as soon as I put it next to her, she was free. I think it had much less to do with the wrap and more to do with her reluctance to have me touch her.
She left behind a pile of frozen poop, a few feathers and a spot of blood no larger than the head of a pin. She joined the flock outdoors and scarfed down breakfast.
I've never had anything like this happen before, and I hope it's the ONLY time.
