I just felt like doing an update on Flo. But before I get into what Flo is up to these days, I want to report that Francie's "face", her muff and beard, grew back in record time, and the picker fiend who did it hasn't noticed, so that's good.
But back in the sub-flock of trouble-makers, the Sussex Four, Geobett has been doing a number on Judy. She doesn't yank the feathers out and eat them. Judy isn't bald anywhere, but most of her feathers have been "unraveled". Her hard flat feathers are frayed and flayed like a nice sweater where the yarn has been raked so it's all fuzzy and furry. It's a definite "look". Can't say as I particularly care for it. I prefer her smooth feathers which looked terrific for all of a week after the new ones came in following fall molt. No one is sporting peepers yet.
Now for Flo. She's still isolated from the flock, but she can still interact with them from the safety of her "jail". Winter was very hard on her, very cold weather caused total lameness, and she couldn't even stand. She had to eat from a plate on the ground. Water had to be down low, also. It was very sad. But when the weather warmed up in between cold fronts, she would merely be gimpy. Now that spring is here, she is getting around fairly well.
She even forgets she's lame, and she insists on wanting out of protective confinement from time to time. So I let her stroll through the main part of the run when the flock is out ranging. The other day, she even decided to go into the main coop and lay her egg. I had to help her up to the nest box. She's been laying regularly every other day in a dog crate I rigged up in her jail cell.
But the minute one of the other chickens wanders back into the run from free ranging, Flo is immediately pounced on and flogged. If she's quick enough, she sees it coming and hobbles over to me and hides behind my legs, for all the good that does, unless I pick her up, which she's counting on.
The biggest change for Flo is she now has a permanent bed in a wicker basket, turned on its side, in the garage. There's no point in trying to make her sleep in a coop full of her enemies, and the garage is better for her legs since it stays around 50 when it's freezing outside.
So, every morning, I carry Flo out to the run, and at roosting time, I carry her back into the garage and she gets in her little basket-bed, happy as a clam. Flo is now around five years old. I bet she the only disabled hen with her very own care-giver.