This is Hinge. She got attacked by a hawk.
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I heard the alarm call and recognised Mag’s (2nd  rooster in Tribe 2) voice, so I knew roughly where the tribe was likely to be. The two dogs here are getting better at responding to the alarm calls and would, if their owner would leave them outside instead of letting them spend their days on the sofa, help prevent a lot of predator attacks; both were at the compost heap when I arrived, the hawk having flown off, I assume when the dogs showed up.
I found Hinge wedged against a section of wooden fence in the second compost bin at the base of the pile of compost. She had managed to get partly under the horizontal bar of the fence and this probably saved her from more serious injuries.
Hinge was in shock when I picked her up and I initially thought one of her legs was broken. I examined her wings and body and apart from having a sizeable potion of her back plucked the only serious injury was on her chest where the hawk had tried to take a bite. While this looked unpleasant, a one and a half inch flap of skin hanging off and muscle with a quarter of an inch deep wound in showing, heartless though it may sound it was a mere scratch compared to many of the injuries I get here.
I carried Hinge up to the terrace, had a better look at the wound, felt along her wings for any breakages, or other damage and tried to examine her leg which she had tucked close to her body. Not wanting to force the leg straight I placed her on one of the terrace tiles to see if she would stand and in an attempt to jolt her out of her shock. She stood for a moment. Shook her head, took a couple of tentative steps as I assured her she was indeed still alive and just as I bent down to pick her up again someone came out of the main house and Hinge panicked and ran.
The relationships I have with each tribe here are different. The bantams took a long time to get used to me and are very untrusting of humans. They all hate being picked up so I haven’t unless absolutely necessary. Usually, if I need to handle them I wait until they’ve roosted and take them off their perch in the dark. The last time I handled Hinge was when she was a chick and given she was running that ruled out a broken leg at least. I probably could have caught her if other people hadn’t arrived all hyped up at the drama and generally getting in the way, Hinge after all had often perched on my leg and taken walnuts out of my hand.
When the rubber necking had subsided and peace was restored I went to look for Hinge. She had found a safe spot under a bush and while not looking perky by any means she was alert and safe.
I was standing there watching her when Mag showed up. Mag went over to Hinge and inspected her. I can’t describe his actions any differently. He walked around her, had a very gentle peck at the bare patch on her back, bent to look at the hole in her chest and then sat down on the ground a couple of feet away from Hinge. Every time I checked on Hinge that day there was one of her tribe’s roosters close by; not bothering her, just close.
I had already decided that I was going to coat the wound in her chest with Stockholm Hoof Tar. I did consider stitching the flap of skin back but this would have hidden the wound and created an environment in which bacteria would thrive. I hoped, as it had in the past, the Stockholm Hoof Tar would seal the wound and time would heal the damage. I wasn’t then and I’m still not sure what to do about the flap of skin hanging from her chest.
That night I took Hinge off her perch and made a reasonable job with the tar. Hinge had one small cut above one eye which I applied a drop of betadine to, another beside the bare patch on her back which got the same treatment and I gave her a dose of Metacam which I had left over from Mel’s treatment and placed her back on her perch.
I looked in her coop later that night. Hinge was perched tight up against an end wall, the wound closest to the wall and Nail (youngest rooster) was perched tight up against Hinge. Nobody else was on that perch which isn’t the norm.
It’s day three now. Hinge has been with her tribe constantly. None of the others are bothering her; in fact at feeding time she is normally the last to be allowed to eat. This morning even Blue Spot her mother who is super strict regarding hierarchy let Hinge eat first with her. Hinge is eating solids and drinking. She stays with the tribe while they are in safe zones but wont venture far to forage and still, every time I look there is one of the three roosters close by. As long as the wound doesn’t get infected it looks like Hinge is going to survive her attack.
What I find interesting about this and other injured chickens I’ve dealt with is ask what to do on various forums and even some vets, you get told to isolate the chicken, pump them full of this substance or that and keep them away form the rest because they’ll pick on an injured chicken and possibly kill it. Gloria, the lovely vet here who takes care of what I cannot, gave me this advice years ago. Do not if you can possibly help it separate an injured chicken from the rest of it’s tribe.
If you have to separate them during the day then put them on their perch with the others at night so they have chicken company for some of the 24 hours. Gloria says, chickens will pick on sick chickens and drive them away but they understand that injuries are not a threat to the tribes health.
As long as there is no blood dripping chickens tend to leave the injured alone.
I have in the past and will again if I feel it’s necessary separate an injured chicken from the rest, but it’s not because I believe the rest will attack it. It’s easier to keep wounds clean in a better controlled environment and some of the injured I’ve had couldn’t walk enough to keep up with a snail. In every case, there has been a noticeable improvement in the injured chickens attitude and consequently health when other chickens are present to a point when keeping them confined was actually hindering their recovery.
You can just see the bare patch on Hinge’s back and the loose flap of skin.
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This is Hinge today surrounded by her family. Mag keeps pecking at the little blobs of tar that have stuck to her feathers and are not covering the wound.