Saturday around 11 AM, I looked out through the window to see my daughter running toward the house holding one of our White Leghorns. " Dad, COME HERE !! ", she screamed. I ran outside to see the poor hen bleeding profusely from one foot. Blood was running out more than a drop per second. I grabbed some bandaids from the house, but they wouldn't stick to her scaly wet feet. I hoped if we calmed her down the bleeding would slow or stop. My daughter said the other chickens were pecking this one's feet like crazy before she grabbed her from the run, so we took her into the garage. We put her on a covered table in the garage and got a spare waterer and some food.
When things calmed a bit we figured out that the poor chicken must have gotten her foot pinched in the door to the run, since they often try to sneak out behind people when the door is open.
The bleeding kept on through the day, sometimes slower, sometimes faster. The table and cloth cover were pretty bloody. The chook was in fine spirits though, eating and drinking as if nothing were wrong. When night came, I turned on a small heater for her, and wished her a good night, expecting she wouldn't survive the night.
In the early AM Sunday, we went out to look. We entered the garage, and couldn't see her anywhere. Blood drops and small puddles were in many places around the garage. It looked like a crime scene from CSI ! I noticed a lot of drops by the edge of the loft, and got a ladder to look up there. There she was, peeking out from behind some storage boxes, very much alive !
When I got over to grab her, I noticed the remnants of a broken egg. She had laid one, it probably broke on the loft floor, and she had eaten the yolk and shell. Best of all, her foot had stopped bleeding completely during the night. We took her right away to reunite with her flock members.
I cleaned the dried blood from the garage later that day, and was amazed that a scrawny Leghorn could survive such loss. She earned herself a new name, though : Mary ( as in Bloody... )
When things calmed a bit we figured out that the poor chicken must have gotten her foot pinched in the door to the run, since they often try to sneak out behind people when the door is open.
The bleeding kept on through the day, sometimes slower, sometimes faster. The table and cloth cover were pretty bloody. The chook was in fine spirits though, eating and drinking as if nothing were wrong. When night came, I turned on a small heater for her, and wished her a good night, expecting she wouldn't survive the night.
In the early AM Sunday, we went out to look. We entered the garage, and couldn't see her anywhere. Blood drops and small puddles were in many places around the garage. It looked like a crime scene from CSI ! I noticed a lot of drops by the edge of the loft, and got a ladder to look up there. There she was, peeking out from behind some storage boxes, very much alive !
When I got over to grab her, I noticed the remnants of a broken egg. She had laid one, it probably broke on the loft floor, and she had eaten the yolk and shell. Best of all, her foot had stopped bleeding completely during the night. We took her right away to reunite with her flock members.
I cleaned the dried blood from the garage later that day, and was amazed that a scrawny Leghorn could survive such loss. She earned herself a new name, though : Mary ( as in Bloody... )