TokoBird
Chirping
I am not a veterinarian. Real veterinarian advice should always take precedence over this. I do not advise doing at-home surgery on your bird, as the suffering is great and the risks of infection and stress-death is high. Always go to a vet if you can.
In my situation, local emergency vets did not offer avian care beyond euthanasia, and the exotic bird vet that did offer it quoted emergency surgery costs that outstripped my means (currently struggling with medical bills after my own sudden appendectomy) and no option for a payment plan - so my options were euthanasia, or figuring it out myself.
Two and a half weeks ago, a raccoon got into the coop. One hen was killed and eaten, and an adolescent Jersey Giant hen received a LARGE deep-tissue injury. Flayed open from armpit to cloaca, loose skin sagged down to her keel, a full adult hand-sized expanse of mostly muscle and a bit of fat exposed with a half-inch diameter gouge taken out of the rib muscle itself. Essentially her entire side was bare muscle.
I found the dead chicken in the morning. I spotted the injured hen in the evening.
The daylong delay meant risks of infection were already high. As mentioned, local vets offered a quick death or a bill I could not pay.
The hen was still walking and eating and pooping. I believed she could live.
We spent several hours cleaning the wound of debris with targeted spray-on saline solution and tweezers, clipped her feathers away from the immediate wound, then sterilized it with iodine. (Alcohol is wildly painful in a wound. Iodine is less painful.)
We lightly covered the wound with antibiotic ointment-coated gauze to keep it clear of feathers overnight, and re-sprayed the wound and the bandage with saline every 4 hours to keep the loose skin flexible and not-sticking to the gauze while we waited for surgery tools to arrive. Flexible and stretchy skin is IMPORTANT for suturing a wide gap closed.
A suture kit came overnight from Amazon, with tiny threads, curved needles, and a variety of forceps and long-handle snip scissors. Boil tools in water and allow to cool before using on wound. Suture thread should be sterile right out of the package.
My uncle came over the next day to help us. He re-sterilized the area with iodine, cut the fat under some surrounding skin to better stretch it to cover the open area, pulled the wound closed and my wife sutured it shut.
(Warning: chickens in pain can make a howling noise like a cat. It is unsettling to hear.)
Wife was chosen to do the sutures because of excellent embroidery skill, steady hands, and a stronger stomach than me for listening to distressed animal sounds.
Suturing itself took 10 minutes, but the meticulous wound cleaning took several hours.
Note: I thought I could do the suturing, because I had dispatched & butchered chickens before and was fine. I was wrong. A quick death is NOTHING like pinning an animal down and manipulating a wound while it thrashes and cries out in pain. I nearly fainted twice, just holding her still. I am lucky and grateful my wife has nerves of steel.
RECOVERY:
Directly after the surgery we put the hen in a cat carrier with clean paper towels, and flat cat bowl of water at the far end.
Paper towel would be exchanged three times a day.
I dimmed the lights, and left her alone for an hour. When I checked back, she was no longer open-mouth breathing. She didn’t eat yet, but drank a sip of water on her own.
I let her alone overnight, to relax after the horrors of surgery.
In the morning, she was hesitant to eat until I offered a bowl topped with her favorite treats - millet and sunflower hearts. She nibbled a bit, then ate more readily.
A successful poop!
She also showed more energy and interest in what I was doing. Tried standing up, shook, and sat back down.
We left the stitches open to the air, and kept her in a room with the door closed to prevent curious cats from stressing her more.
I put a bunch of triple antibiotic ointment around the sutures every day for the first three days, then every third day until day 10 when the exposed muscle was clearly dried over and no sign of infection had appeared.
Checked for infection three times a day for first 5 days. (Looking for bad smell, bright red inflammation, weeping puss or radiating heat). Days 3-5 are biggest risk for seeing infection. Uncle had some veterinary penicillin on-hand just in case, but we ended up not needing it.
Her wound was pale, bruised an ugly green in one spot, but did not turn red with inflammation, did not weep, and did not start to stink. I am now very familiar with the body-smell of chickens, from pressing my face close to her side to sniff. Infection smells foul and sweet, I am familiar enough with it to trust my nose.
Fed her chick starter feed with water added until it was a damp mash (not wet) and mixed in several drops of nutri-drench to the mash with every meal. Offered treats to spark interest for that first morning, but her appetite roared to life by the end of the day. She avoided drinking brown-tinted water, so the drench was fed in a mash instead.
Meals given at 7am and 5pm (due to my work schedule). She ate more when I was present, poking at her food through the bars with the back of a paintbrush. Communal meals feels safer than eating alone. Food and drinks provided in flat-bottom kitten-sized bowls. Harder to tip over because she wants to perch on them.
Removed food and water overnight so she wouldn’t spill and splash poopy water on her wound.
Gave her a chunk of clean 2x4 to perch on day 3 when she seemed anxious to stand and flex her leg.
Kept an eye on her poop - lots of brown poop = good appetite = good healing.
After 7 days, I switched to dry feed and started taking her for little walks outside to get her muscles working, since she was cramped in the cage aside from bedding changes and wound checks.
Still limping, but strong enough to walk around a bit.
By day 8 I was confident she was healing well, and set an alert to take her stitches out on day 14. (While a shallow stitch only needs 7 days. Deeper & more extensive wounds take longer to heal. )
This week, the hen was successfully reintroduced to the flock, is in good health, and earned the name “Xena: Warrior Princess”
—
What I learned:
- get a Buddy or three to help. You don’t know your gut reaction to this kinda thing until it’s happening.
- I DEEPLY WISH we had been able to get ahold of painkillers in time for the surgery, but I couldn’t find dosage conversions that I felt I could trust, loads of conflicting info about what is safe vs deadly, and I know birds react terribly to -Caine painkillers that humans normally use.
Anti-inflammatory meds and “soothing herbs” don’t actually numb the area. If anyone has legitimately sourced info on bird painkillers that a non-vet can access I’d deeply appreciate the knowledge.
- chickens crave dust baths for itchy healing wounds. On her first walk outside she zeroed in on an ant hill and started flinging DIRT on her WOUND. I caught her before she got too coated, and saline-sprayed and antibiotic ointment-ed her wound again, but she gave me the biggest stink-eye after. I gave her the stink-eye right back.
- I adore Xena the hen, and her stubborn will to live. She’s presently cuddling under the smaller Sumatras.
—
What would you do differently, in this situation of having a grievously injured bird?
In my situation, local emergency vets did not offer avian care beyond euthanasia, and the exotic bird vet that did offer it quoted emergency surgery costs that outstripped my means (currently struggling with medical bills after my own sudden appendectomy) and no option for a payment plan - so my options were euthanasia, or figuring it out myself.
Two and a half weeks ago, a raccoon got into the coop. One hen was killed and eaten, and an adolescent Jersey Giant hen received a LARGE deep-tissue injury. Flayed open from armpit to cloaca, loose skin sagged down to her keel, a full adult hand-sized expanse of mostly muscle and a bit of fat exposed with a half-inch diameter gouge taken out of the rib muscle itself. Essentially her entire side was bare muscle.
I found the dead chicken in the morning. I spotted the injured hen in the evening.
The daylong delay meant risks of infection were already high. As mentioned, local vets offered a quick death or a bill I could not pay.
The hen was still walking and eating and pooping. I believed she could live.
We spent several hours cleaning the wound of debris with targeted spray-on saline solution and tweezers, clipped her feathers away from the immediate wound, then sterilized it with iodine. (Alcohol is wildly painful in a wound. Iodine is less painful.)
We lightly covered the wound with antibiotic ointment-coated gauze to keep it clear of feathers overnight, and re-sprayed the wound and the bandage with saline every 4 hours to keep the loose skin flexible and not-sticking to the gauze while we waited for surgery tools to arrive. Flexible and stretchy skin is IMPORTANT for suturing a wide gap closed.
A suture kit came overnight from Amazon, with tiny threads, curved needles, and a variety of forceps and long-handle snip scissors. Boil tools in water and allow to cool before using on wound. Suture thread should be sterile right out of the package.
My uncle came over the next day to help us. He re-sterilized the area with iodine, cut the fat under some surrounding skin to better stretch it to cover the open area, pulled the wound closed and my wife sutured it shut.
(Warning: chickens in pain can make a howling noise like a cat. It is unsettling to hear.)
Wife was chosen to do the sutures because of excellent embroidery skill, steady hands, and a stronger stomach than me for listening to distressed animal sounds.
Suturing itself took 10 minutes, but the meticulous wound cleaning took several hours.
Note: I thought I could do the suturing, because I had dispatched & butchered chickens before and was fine. I was wrong. A quick death is NOTHING like pinning an animal down and manipulating a wound while it thrashes and cries out in pain. I nearly fainted twice, just holding her still. I am lucky and grateful my wife has nerves of steel.
RECOVERY:
Directly after the surgery we put the hen in a cat carrier with clean paper towels, and flat cat bowl of water at the far end.
Paper towel would be exchanged three times a day.
I dimmed the lights, and left her alone for an hour. When I checked back, she was no longer open-mouth breathing. She didn’t eat yet, but drank a sip of water on her own.
I let her alone overnight, to relax after the horrors of surgery.
In the morning, she was hesitant to eat until I offered a bowl topped with her favorite treats - millet and sunflower hearts. She nibbled a bit, then ate more readily.
A successful poop!
She also showed more energy and interest in what I was doing. Tried standing up, shook, and sat back down.
We left the stitches open to the air, and kept her in a room with the door closed to prevent curious cats from stressing her more.
I put a bunch of triple antibiotic ointment around the sutures every day for the first three days, then every third day until day 10 when the exposed muscle was clearly dried over and no sign of infection had appeared.
Checked for infection three times a day for first 5 days. (Looking for bad smell, bright red inflammation, weeping puss or radiating heat). Days 3-5 are biggest risk for seeing infection. Uncle had some veterinary penicillin on-hand just in case, but we ended up not needing it.
Her wound was pale, bruised an ugly green in one spot, but did not turn red with inflammation, did not weep, and did not start to stink. I am now very familiar with the body-smell of chickens, from pressing my face close to her side to sniff. Infection smells foul and sweet, I am familiar enough with it to trust my nose.
Fed her chick starter feed with water added until it was a damp mash (not wet) and mixed in several drops of nutri-drench to the mash with every meal. Offered treats to spark interest for that first morning, but her appetite roared to life by the end of the day. She avoided drinking brown-tinted water, so the drench was fed in a mash instead.
Meals given at 7am and 5pm (due to my work schedule). She ate more when I was present, poking at her food through the bars with the back of a paintbrush. Communal meals feels safer than eating alone. Food and drinks provided in flat-bottom kitten-sized bowls. Harder to tip over because she wants to perch on them.
Removed food and water overnight so she wouldn’t spill and splash poopy water on her wound.
Gave her a chunk of clean 2x4 to perch on day 3 when she seemed anxious to stand and flex her leg.
Kept an eye on her poop - lots of brown poop = good appetite = good healing.
After 7 days, I switched to dry feed and started taking her for little walks outside to get her muscles working, since she was cramped in the cage aside from bedding changes and wound checks.
Still limping, but strong enough to walk around a bit.
By day 8 I was confident she was healing well, and set an alert to take her stitches out on day 14. (While a shallow stitch only needs 7 days. Deeper & more extensive wounds take longer to heal. )
This week, the hen was successfully reintroduced to the flock, is in good health, and earned the name “Xena: Warrior Princess”
—
What I learned:
- get a Buddy or three to help. You don’t know your gut reaction to this kinda thing until it’s happening.
- I DEEPLY WISH we had been able to get ahold of painkillers in time for the surgery, but I couldn’t find dosage conversions that I felt I could trust, loads of conflicting info about what is safe vs deadly, and I know birds react terribly to -Caine painkillers that humans normally use.
Anti-inflammatory meds and “soothing herbs” don’t actually numb the area. If anyone has legitimately sourced info on bird painkillers that a non-vet can access I’d deeply appreciate the knowledge.
- chickens crave dust baths for itchy healing wounds. On her first walk outside she zeroed in on an ant hill and started flinging DIRT on her WOUND. I caught her before she got too coated, and saline-sprayed and antibiotic ointment-ed her wound again, but she gave me the biggest stink-eye after. I gave her the stink-eye right back.
- I adore Xena the hen, and her stubborn will to live. She’s presently cuddling under the smaller Sumatras.
—
What would you do differently, in this situation of having a grievously injured bird?
