Hawk came back... d'uccle pen this time....
Bent between two hogwire roof panels. Possibly Liam, but picture she sent me looks like another juvenile roo. Only have feet feathers to go by in pic... I'm going to have to do a stakeout this weekend...
Sheesh, a young friend of ours, who's a married father, just made me feel old. Turns out my husband and I are older than his parents! Well, OK, I'm older than his parents, and my husband is a year younger than his dad, and the same age as his mom. (I'm 4 years older than my husband. We met and started dating when I was 21. I didn't know his age until we'd been dating for a couple of weeks (hey, we met in community college, so I assumed he was at least 18...) Why, yes, I was paranoid until his birthday 6 months later; why do you ask?) Makes me even prouder of the fact that my husband did better than our friend when he did a practice pack test with him! The test is for firefighting (our friend has all his certifications, but the pack test has to be taken annually) and involves running 3 miles with a 45 pound pack in 45 minutes. Our friend passed, barely. My husband completed the test in 34 minutes!
My husband had shovel duty this morning. Our leghorn had had a prolapse a few months ago, but I helped to resolve it. We hadn't gotten any real eggs from her since, though I've found a few leathery white shells under the roost since then. I'm pretty sure she was laying internally as well, but I couldn't feel any swelling in her abdomen, and she was eating and drinking great, and at the top of the pecking order. Walking completely normally, too. Sunday afternoon, as I was getting everyone into the coop in preparation for them to be locked in until we got back from camping, she was puffed up, droopy-winged, and statue-standing
She was also badly prolapsed. Even worse, I was able to walk up to her and pick her up with no protest or struggle whatsoever. Since Frieda and the chicks were out, I put Omelette II in the getting-to-know-you pen with lots of food and water (I'd just stocked it for Frieda and the chicks) and closed the top. Just as I was expecting, when we got home last night, I had a white corpse. Not sure when she passed, since we weren't here, but since the food looked untouched and the body wasn't stiff this morning, I'm guessing it was sometime Sunday night. The fact that she was head-down under the roost points to that, as well. I feel like a bad chicken owner, but she simply wasn't presenting any signs of suffering as late as Sunday morning when I let everyone into the run, and I didn't have time to look in on them before I locked them up, because we had church and then I had to finish packing up the camper while my husband did the Sunday afternoon street ministry. At least she didn't get pecked at when she couldn't defend herself, or after she couldn't feel anything anyway.
In other news, I've got something coming in the mail from Walnut
Sheesh, a young friend of ours, who's a married father, just made me feel old. Turns out my husband and I are older than his parents! Well, OK, I'm older than his parents, and my husband is a year younger than his dad, and the same age as his mom. (I'm 4 years older than my husband. We met and started dating when I was 21. I didn't know his age until we'd been dating for a couple of weeks (hey, we met in community college, so I assumed he was at least 18...) Why, yes, I was paranoid until his birthday 6 months later; why do you ask?) Makes me even prouder of the fact that my husband did better than our friend when he did a practice pack test with him! The test is for firefighting (our friend has all his certifications, but the pack test has to be taken annually) and involves running 3 miles with a 45 pound pack in 45 minutes. Our friend passed, barely. My husband completed the test in 34 minutes!
My husband had shovel duty this morning. Our leghorn had had a prolapse a few months ago, but I helped to resolve it. We hadn't gotten any real eggs from her since, though I've found a few leathery white shells under the roost since then. I'm pretty sure she was laying internally as well, but I couldn't feel any swelling in her abdomen, and she was eating and drinking great, and at the top of the pecking order. Walking completely normally, too. Sunday afternoon, as I was getting everyone into the coop in preparation for them to be locked in until we got back from camping, she was puffed up, droopy-winged, and statue-standing She was also badly prolapsed. Even worse, I was able to walk up to her and pick her up with no protest or struggle whatsoever. Since Frieda and the chicks were out, I put Omelette II in the getting-to-know-you pen with lots of food and water (I'd just stocked it for Frieda and the chicks) and closed the top. Just as I was expecting, when we got home last night, I had a white corpse. Not sure when she passed, since we weren't here, but since the food looked untouched and the body wasn't stiff this morning, I'm guessing it was sometime Sunday night. The fact that she was head-down under the roost points to that, as well. I feel like a bad chicken owner, but she simply wasn't presenting any signs of suffering as late as Sunday morning when I let everyone into the run, and I didn't have time to look in on them before I locked them up, because we had church and then I had to finish packing up the camper while my husband did the Sunday afternoon street ministry. At least she didn't get pecked at when she couldn't defend herself, or after she couldn't feel anything anyway.
In other news, I've got something coming in the mail from Walnut
Sheesh, a young friend of ours, who's a married father, just made me feel old. Turns out my husband and I are older than his parents! Well, OK, I'm older than his parents, and my husband is a year younger than his dad, and the same age as his mom. (I'm 4 years older than my husband. We met and started dating when I was 21. I didn't know his age until we'd been dating for a couple of weeks (hey, we met in community college, so I assumed he was at least 18...) Why, yes, I was paranoid until his birthday 6 months later; why do you ask?) Makes me even prouder of the fact that my husband did better than our friend when he did a practice pack test with him! The test is for firefighting (our friend has all his certifications, but the pack test has to be taken annually) and involves running 3 miles with a 45 pound pack in 45 minutes. Our friend passed, barely. My husband completed the test in 34 minutes!
My husband had shovel duty this morning. Our leghorn had had a prolapse a few months ago, but I helped to resolve it. We hadn't gotten any real eggs from her since, though I've found a few leathery white shells under the roost since then. I'm pretty sure she was laying internally as well, but I couldn't feel any swelling in her abdomen, and she was eating and drinking great, and at the top of the pecking order. Walking completely normally, too. Sunday afternoon, as I was getting everyone into the coop in preparation for them to be locked in until we got back from camping, she was puffed up, droopy-winged, and statue-standing
She was also badly prolapsed. Even worse, I was able to walk up to her and pick her up with no protest or struggle whatsoever. Since Frieda and the chicks were out, I put Omelette II in the getting-to-know-you pen with lots of food and water (I'd just stocked it for Frieda and the chicks) and closed the top. Just as I was expecting, when we got home last night, I had a white corpse. Not sure when she passed, since we weren't here, but since the food looked untouched and the body wasn't stiff this morning, I'm guessing it was sometime Sunday night. The fact that she was head-down under the roost points to that, as well. I feel like a bad chicken owner, but she simply wasn't presenting any signs of suffering as late as Sunday morning when I let everyone into the run, and I didn't have time to look in on them before I locked them up, because we had church and then I had to finish packing up the camper while my husband did the Sunday afternoon street ministry. At least she didn't get pecked at when she couldn't defend herself, or after she couldn't feel anything anyway.
In other news, I've got something coming in the mail from Walnut
Yay on the test, and sorry on the hen. They do seem to just go and go until one day they go no more. As you said, she ended her life quietly. You're certainly not a bad chicken owner, as you had treated her for the original issue, then isolated her when she relapsed. Hugs...
She was also badly prolapsed. Even worse, I was able to walk up to her and pick her up with no protest or struggle whatsoever. Since Frieda and the chicks were out, I put Omelette II in the getting-to-know-you pen with lots of food and water (I'd just stocked it for Frieda and the chicks) and closed the top. Just as I was expecting, when we got home last night, I had a white corpse. Not sure when she passed, since we weren't here, but since the food looked untouched and the body wasn't stiff this morning, I'm guessing it was sometime Sunday night. The fact that she was head-down under the roost points to that, as well. I feel like a bad chicken owner, but she simply wasn't presenting any signs of suffering as late as Sunday morning when I let everyone into the run, and I didn't have time to look in on them before I locked them up, because we had church and then I had to finish packing up the camper while my husband did the Sunday afternoon street ministry. At least she didn't get pecked at when she couldn't defend herself, or after she couldn't feel anything anyway.
