About 2 weeks ago, we drove an hour out to a chicken farm to buy our first chicks. We knew which breeds we wanted, so we walked the farm with the chicken lady and she took us to different pens and caught one of each for us. The Buff Orphington was about 1.5 months older than the other two: a 2-week old Delaware and a 3-week old Dominicker. The Buff was so sweet and gentle and let us hold her with no flapping or squaking. We took to her instantly. There were about 35 in her pen, so we felt like we got a great one. The other two were too young to really tell about their personalities, and there were about 100 or so of each of them. We just took what she scooped up. In the last 2 weeks, the Buff, who we named "Aunt B" grew on us even more. Then, about 5 days ago, we noticed that she was closing her eyes during the day, and then just keeping one eye closed. So, we researched and figured maybe she had a respiratory problem. So, we called the chicken lady we got her from, and she said, "I'd be happy to replace that chick." We said, "NOOOOO! This is Aunt B. We don't want another one!" I'm sure she was laughing at us, as she looked out onto her farm of at least 1,000 chickens. But, she said, "Well, bring her back out here and let me give her some antibiotics and see if I can fix her up." Aunt B has been at her place for 5 days now, and we just got the call that she is doing great. We'll pick her up Friday. We love our Aunt B. A small, secret part of my heart wonders if this is like telling your kid that the goldfish was just "sleeping" and look, he's all better the next day! I hope we get *Aunt B* back. After all, this is our first chicken, and we haven't spent enough time to notice any tale-tell physical marks. If we got the old switcheroo, would we even be able to tell?