BuffNumber14
Chirping
Candy was one of six chicks hatched out of an incubator exactly one year and one week ago. Her sire, George, was a gentle Orpington rooster who passed away suddenly in August 2024. Needing a replacement ideally with his temperament, I rushed out, collected eggs that had never been refrigerated, and put them in an incubator, even though September is late to start a hatch here in North Central Idaho.
Candy was one of three pullets to hatch, along with her hatchmates Runaround Sue, who is a bit squawky and suspicious around me, and Grace, who is reticent. At some point, by contrast, Candy began to confidently approach me, wanting to be picked up and to have conversations, here is one:
YouTube: Candy expresses her opinion
And that is how she got her name, given her sweetness.
In August 2025, I took her to the vet because she suddenly was hiding by the chicken tractor, tail down. The diagnosis was internal laying, which is invariably fatal. Because she was likely in discomfort, and her back was a bit bare from the latest rooster, Fred, I sequestered her in a popup tent or a coop sick bay at night and in my fenced orchard during the day.
Her feathers grew back beautifully. Soon she raised her tail up like a healthy bird, and while in the orchard, she enjoyed wrecking the lower ripe tomatoes on the plants. (photo attached). The swollen abdomen that led to the vet visit receded considerably.
She had discovered a gap in the orchard's wire fencing and when I came out a few days ago to lock up the flock at dusk, she was waiting outside the gate, looking at me expectantly, and I picked her up and put her into her sick bay in the coop. She gently grasped my wrist with her feet, like a falcon, and would murmur and hold conversations like those shown in the video linked above.
She produced a normal egg three days ago, and I thought maybe she was fully recovered. But a shell-less egg followed two days ago. Yesterday she lay with her head down on the coop floor. I bought her inside, gave her an Epsom salt bath in case she was egg bound, but a probe of her vent indicated nothing blocking it (indicative of internal laying). I blow-dried her pretty feathers, hoping she might bounce back, but her diagnosis was catching up with her, and she lay disconsolately, wings out to her side, in a small popup tent I bought indoor. I had to humanely euthanize and bury her this morning.
The main thing I might have tried to do differently is give her oyster shell while she was recuperating. I didn't since she wasn't laying, but maybe that would have avoided the shell-less egg and given her more time.
I'd like to thank her vet Dr. Megan and the regional avian pathologist Dr. Elissa who helped with her diagnosis.
Of comfort to me is her appearing in a recently released YouTube video made about my cabin build at about the two minute mark, timestamped link. The fillmmaker was impressed that I had taken her to the vet that day -- "They're your pets!" On reflection, Candy was my pet, for sure, making me realize that while all my birds are both pets, and livestock producing food and offspring, some are pets on a very real level with a deep bond.
Candy was one of three pullets to hatch, along with her hatchmates Runaround Sue, who is a bit squawky and suspicious around me, and Grace, who is reticent. At some point, by contrast, Candy began to confidently approach me, wanting to be picked up and to have conversations, here is one:
YouTube: Candy expresses her opinion
And that is how she got her name, given her sweetness.
In August 2025, I took her to the vet because she suddenly was hiding by the chicken tractor, tail down. The diagnosis was internal laying, which is invariably fatal. Because she was likely in discomfort, and her back was a bit bare from the latest rooster, Fred, I sequestered her in a popup tent or a coop sick bay at night and in my fenced orchard during the day.
Her feathers grew back beautifully. Soon she raised her tail up like a healthy bird, and while in the orchard, she enjoyed wrecking the lower ripe tomatoes on the plants. (photo attached). The swollen abdomen that led to the vet visit receded considerably.
She had discovered a gap in the orchard's wire fencing and when I came out a few days ago to lock up the flock at dusk, she was waiting outside the gate, looking at me expectantly, and I picked her up and put her into her sick bay in the coop. She gently grasped my wrist with her feet, like a falcon, and would murmur and hold conversations like those shown in the video linked above.
She produced a normal egg three days ago, and I thought maybe she was fully recovered. But a shell-less egg followed two days ago. Yesterday she lay with her head down on the coop floor. I bought her inside, gave her an Epsom salt bath in case she was egg bound, but a probe of her vent indicated nothing blocking it (indicative of internal laying). I blow-dried her pretty feathers, hoping she might bounce back, but her diagnosis was catching up with her, and she lay disconsolately, wings out to her side, in a small popup tent I bought indoor. I had to humanely euthanize and bury her this morning.
The main thing I might have tried to do differently is give her oyster shell while she was recuperating. I didn't since she wasn't laying, but maybe that would have avoided the shell-less egg and given her more time.
I'd like to thank her vet Dr. Megan and the regional avian pathologist Dr. Elissa who helped with her diagnosis.
Of comfort to me is her appearing in a recently released YouTube video made about my cabin build at about the two minute mark, timestamped link. The fillmmaker was impressed that I had taken her to the vet that day -- "They're your pets!" On reflection, Candy was my pet, for sure, making me realize that while all my birds are both pets, and livestock producing food and offspring, some are pets on a very real level with a deep bond.
Last edited:
