And now for the next installation in the rooster recovery saga.
I woke up to a totally flattened Henry. His chest was flat on the floor, his beak was on the floor, and his left wing was spread out flat as far as it could go. It was alarming to say the least.
Once again I thought my dear boy was about to meet his maker.
His left leg is his stronger one. The right one keeps him upright but otherwise doesn't move. So I assumed he lost strength over night and collapsed flat when he could no longer move his good leg and right himself.
I tried tucking his feathers together and guiding his wing back to his side, but it resisted any movement. I don't know wings, mind you. I know paws and whiskers and furry bellies. So I tried again, and this time I was able to sense the wing's design as I slowly tucked the various pieces together and got it looking normal again.
Then I nudged Henry upright (he was listing heavily to the left) and said a prayer for him.
But that darn boy suddenly jutted out his wing again, and I had to repeat the process. His body was lifting and shaking and I thought, for the 100th time, here we go: rooster death while I'm watching.
Nope, Henry just got stuck and was waiting for me to tuck his various parts back together for him, nothing more.
He's eating and drinking and making soft sounds whenever he hears or sees a hen. He's pooping not as often as he used to but with more content, and it's looking more and more normal. And he's trying to stand.
Henry is also looking like a quarter of his former self, no longer a half, thanks to all the extra feathers I had to trim away to protect his wounds from honey-soaked feather globs. I had NO clue chickens can turn their heads all the way around and nibble the middle of their backs. All these months of being a chicken person and I just didn't pay much attention to their head reach.
So if you're reading this and you have an injured bird with wounds he or she can reach, you may need to get crafty and sew some kind of a chicken device to stop them from doing that.
Did I mention that Henry and his gals are six months old?
Anyway, the lame leg shows no signs of injuries; at least no obvious wounds. Could it be broken without being able to see the break? I'm still leaning toward pain and problems from the deep wounds and am hopeful he'll regain at least some use of his right leg. The left leg keeps trying to stand, as it was able to do on the first day when he was in shock. So I think that's definitely a pain thing, and he'll fully recover the use of that leg once he heals more.
Okay, so I just got up and let a comfort cat out from her morning visit with Henry. Now the chickens are heading this way. Hortense is the calmest option, but Emma may be a good choice, too. Definitely not the head hen Rosemary. She's too rambunctious.
I'm really hoping this boy recovers. Ten times a day I think, "This is it, then. He's a goner." Only to discover he's napping or just tipped over.
Thank goodness he's not like one of those fainting goats. My husband showed me a video of them recently. We're getting goats this spring. Knowing my luck I'll come home with two of those fainting ones from the discount section at the goat store. I don't think my heart can handle any more animal related coronaries.
That's it for now, folks. Thanks for reading along and for your kind words!