Mycoplasma Is Evil

Ok, I give up. After four days of squirting antibiotic eye drops in to Doris's spotty eye, I'm reaching for the Tylan. She still shows no respiratory symptoms, but now her other eye is bubbling slightly. I loathe dosing the whole flock, but it seems to cause less stress all round rather than seperating Doris and treating her on her own. Plus, myco is generally present in the whole flock if one shows symptoms. I still suspect that Doris is just low from her moult, but I'm not taking any chances. I am reminded of my long battle this time last year to save my beloved Mini and feel generally quite glum.

The weather hasn't helped my mood. It has been blowing a gale here now for two days and the ground is decidedly spongey. The chooks are not impressed and have stayed in the coop only venturing forth for pellets and the now medicated water. On occassional forays in to the run they sit on the perches out of the wind and we all eyeball each other miserably. Maeve's hackle feathers are growing in now, so she's slightly less demented and the whole flock is thankful.

I wrap up in wet weather gear to go out and attend to them which is a sight they find troubling. The wind snapping my windbreaker causes a kefuffle, so I haven't even had and chickenny cuddles to cheer me up. This morning, while cleaning the coop, I heard several sneezes and saw a few headshakes. I have my fingers crossed that everyone just has a cold, but my experiences last autumn make me feel terribly fatalistic.

I promise I'll cheer up for the next post.

We Are Back In Business

As usual, I have spent the last two nights on edge and worrying about the girls as the rest of the country plays at being explosives experts. Also as usual, the girls have been absolutely fine and seem completely unmoved by all my fussing. I should probably learn something from that.

There have been some slightly concerning weather reports that we're in for a rough ride through tonight and in to tomorrow. The wind is expected to reach gale force and there is talk of localised flooding. In our case it will be very localised, as we are on top of a hill yet our garage is apparently immune to the natural laws of physics. Every time we get a heavy downpour the bloody thing fills up. I am beginning to wonder whether it secretly harbours a desire to call itself an indoor pool. So this afternoon I went through a ridiculous process of clearing all damagable items from the garage floor, and balancing them on top of undamagable things. It's a bit like a particularly evil game of Jenga. The hens watched me with interest from the doorway, occassionally offering muttered encouragement or letting out an alarmed squawk as a sack of feed tried to launch itself at my bent head. They are sometimes very helpful.

They followed me cheerfully around the garden as I packed away hanging baskets and any potential missiles that could take out the greenhouse. Typically, their enthusiasm waned as it became obvious that I was not going to offer a treat or dig up the garden a bit so that they could go worm hunting. I finished battening down the hatches in peace, and then sauntered casually towards Doris. Yesterday, this approach had worked but the wily blue hen was now on her guard. She stood tall and chuntered a 'Don't even think about it, mate'. Unfortunately for her as a responsible chicken keeper I did have to think about it, and I scooped her up as she attempted to escape between my wellies. Doris has a small pimple on her lower eyelid. It's probably nothing serious, and she has had similair occurrences in the past, but I'm not taking any chances. I have some eye drop antibiotics which were issued for my beloved Mini, and poor Doris has to endure this treatment three times a day. Once captured, she tends to submit to the drops with an air of weary resignation. Still, getting an eye drop in to a chicken's eye is no easy task. She generally shakes her head once the medicine finds its target. Tomorrow I must remember to close my mouth. Bleurgh.

My adventures outside were rounded off nicely today though by finding an egg in the nest box. I haven't had an egg off of my girls for at least six weeks, so I was most pleased. I am guessing that Purdy left this small treasure, but I didn't spot anyone in the coop so can't be sure.

May there be many more to come.

The down side

Delilah, on the right.

There is a downside to hen keeping, and I've been reminded of it today. Chickens are such funny little characters, that you find yourself getting attatched to them almost without realising it. So when one of them gets ill, it's very upsetting.

Delilah is a very sick hen. She doesn't seem able to move very well, staggering like a drunk and using her wings to steady herself. Her face and comb are pale, and she's spent a lot of the day huddled in the run. We've been to the vets, and she's been given antibiotic and steroid injections. A temporary hospital wing has been set up in the garage with lots of deep warm bedding, food and water. Her best chicken pal, Mini, is with her. There is nothing more to be done, but wait and see if she is alive in the morning.

I feel bad for calling her a cow now.