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.

I Warn You Now, This Is Disgusting.

I am giving you fair warning. I am about to post pics of Mini and her revolting eye. If you are eating, you will not want to see them. I am posting them in the hope that someone, somewhere, will google 'disgusting eye chicken', come across this blog, and be able to tell me what to do.

So. You have been warned.

So, this is my lovely mini. This is the unaffected eye. Although, the other one is so swollen that it is in shot.

  This gives you some idea as to how large the swelling is. You'll notice that the other eye is not visible at all.

                              This is the affected eye. The hard crust is a fairly new development.


The skin around the swelling is very tight, and I think it must be very uncomfortable. She is, however, just getting on with it. The tissue seems to have totally filled the eye socket. It has nowhere else to go now, so I am watching anxiously. So, it's a long shot, but does anyone have any ideas?

Cyclops Chicken

I am anxious. Instinctively, I want to prod and poke at Mini's humungous swollen eye. I have restrained myself to just grabbing her and having a good look. The actual eyeball is nowhere to be seen at this stage, and the cyst tissue has hardened in the gap between her eyelids. The swelling is now the size of a marble.

None of this sounds good, does it? I have to admit it looks even worse. My little splash hen is filthy from the winter, and has a giant crusty eye. From some angles, she resembles a praying mantis. Or one of those swivel eyed reptiles, anyway. She certainly wouldn't win any beauty contests.

Yet, the strange thing is, she's coping. In fact, she's more than coping. She pootles around the garden, looking for tasty things to eat. She runs for treats. She hasn't lost any weight, and her overall condition is good. She is getting better at avoiding the sneaky Maeve, who sidles up to her on her bad side to deliver a swift peck to the head. All in all, she's just getting on with her chickenny business.

So, I am resisting my urge to interfere. The last time I started prodding and poking, her eye bled and she shrieked at me. I should probably take the non-too-subtle hint.

Meh-meh.

Chilled Chickens

The weather is bitterly cold. It hasn't got above freezing for several days, and I have to break the ice in the girls' drinker several times a day. We had a smattering of snow which has now frozen solid. The decking by the back door is like an ice rink. Every so often, a small hen goes whizzing past the glass with a confused look in her eye. Chickens do not like snow, ice or anything else which is damp and cold.

For the most part, the girls are staying inside. Margot seems the least bothered by the weather, and is often seen skidding about the garden. Maeve and Doris venture out for brief periods of foraging, but retreat to the coop after a while. Mabel and Maude are having none of it, and other than quick trips to the food and water, stay perched up high in the Convent, muttering.

Kiki, for reasons best known to herself, has decided that this cold spell is the perfect time to go broody. She sits in the nestbox, guarding her eggs, and growling if anyone gets too close. I am unceremoniously dumping her on the cold lawn a couple of times a day.

Mini is still holed up in the greenhouse. She spends a lot of time in her coop, but comes out periodically for a scratch about and dinner. I tried to encourage her to explore a bit further today, and she made a beeline for the Convent. Maude chased her and grabbed a beakful of tail feathers. It is not ideal to have the bottom hen out of the fold. Mini scarpered to the border, and sat looking miserable. I scooped her up and put her back in the greenhouse, where she wont be picked on. Feeling sorry for her, I also roped in Margot, and the two hens are now snuggled up together in the little coop. I am considering rotating the gentler hens, so that Mini is not without allies when the time comes for her to return to the main coop. Kiki and Doris should be friendly enough.

Mini's eye is looking worse by the day. The gunky stuff has now covered her eye, and appears to have blood vessels through it. I would bet money on it being a cyst. It is swollen, but doesn't appear to be causing her pain. I think that the eye is irretrievably lost, and that saddens me, but I hope that she'll adapt and have many years ahead of her.

I long for this to have a happy ending.

Chicken Origami

Yesterday the swab kit arrived from the poultry lab. I roped the ever tolerant husband in to help, and restrained a miffed Mini. The ever tolerant husband approached Mini with trepidation, as I wrestled open her beak. I rather snappily told him to take the swab, rather than tickling her with it. We then moved on to the frankly, grim, eye cheese. Tentatively, he swabbed her gunky eye, and twirled some of the vile cheese-like substance from her eye socket. Neither of us felt like breakfast. This done, we posted the swabs to the lab. I confess to muttering a little prayer.

After a hasty Christmas shopping trip, we grumpily returned home. As I stepped out of the back door, I glanced into the run. What I saw made my heart sink. A jumbled mass of white, with some darker smudges, lay at the bottom of the ramp. I froze. Something in my posture brought the ever tolerant husband running, and as he too saw the crumpled mass in the run, he tried to console me. Very close to tears, I approached the Convent, fully expecting to see a very dead Mini, possibly duffed up by the rest of the flock. What I found was a screwed up layer of newspaper, that I use under the perch in the coop. Maude has a habit of taking her frustration at being incarcerated out on this layer, taking great pleasure in tearing it to pieces. As I breathed a sigh of relief, Mini stuck her head out of the coop, and muttered her trademark 'meh-meh' in greeting. I have never been so glad to see her.

The ever tolerant husband remarked that perhaps the flock had taken up origami to stave off boredom. Or perhaps to teach me a lesson.....

Little Heartbreaker

Despite regular eye drops, cleaning and wiping, Min's eye shows no improvement. Out of desperation, I have contacted a poultry infection laboratory, and will be sending them swabs tomorrow. They will test for a few different infections, and the hope is that once identified, they can then prescribe the most effective antibiotic. The other possibility is that she has a cyst behind her eye, in which case we're talking surgery. I never thought I would feel so upset about a small, dirty hen.

Today I pulled more of the horrible, rubbery substance from her eye socket. This necessary treatment causes Mini untold stress, and left her gasping. I loathe having to do it, but am hoping that I'm giving her eye a chance at retaining some function. However, at this stage I would happily see her lose the eye if it meant she would have a good quality of life. Plenty of chickens get by with only one eye, and I have no doubt that Mini would cope. She has effectively been one-eyed for nearly 6 weeks now, and has no problem eating, drinking and navigating the garden.

I am trying to be positive about the lab identifying the problem. I cannot even consider surgery without a very heavy heart.

Mystery Layer

Quick update on Mini. After trying baytril, and more tylan, Mini is now having eye drops administered three times a day. The eye is a mess, and the horrid, thick eye cheese continues to be a problem. After liberating some from her upper eyelid yesterday, I very nearly threw up. Mini bears this treatment with understandable panic, but no malice. The eye is open, but looks awful. On the plus side, Mini is well in herself, happily rootling around the garden for tasty tidbits and leading the charge when it comes to treats. She is eating and drinking normally, so I am slightly more confident that she will survive whatever this infection is.

On a more happy note, one more of my girls is now laying (I say one more, because Maeve has yet to stop. That hen is a powerhouse of production!) Last week, I found a quite spherical egg in the run. Tinted like Maeve's, but a different shape. It still might have been Maeve's, I suppose, but I can't think why she wouldn't have laid in the nest box. It also closely resembled the kind of egg that a certain eye-infected chook used to lay. Then, two days ago I found a perfectly formed, slightly smaller, yet shiny, egg in 'Maeve's' nest box. This one was definitely not down to my ASBO chicken. Today, I have found another egg matching the description of the first.

Now, I'm fairly certain that this small, shiny egg layer is not one of my 'regulars'. My money is on the demented bog brush sisters, aka the silkies. So, I have diligently followed them around the garden, hand outstretched, in an effort to see if they crouch. They don't. They simply take off around the garden like road runner. Hmmmm.

The mystery deepens.....

The Problem With Mini

Mini is sick again. Just over a week ago, I noticed her wheezing. This was dreadful timing, as we were going away for a long weekend the following day. I dosed the water with Tylan, informed my chook sitter and reluctantly left her and hoped for the best.

When we returned, I was delighted to hear that her chest had cleared up, and she was back to making her 'brum' noises. One of her eyes looked a little gunky, but I assumed it would clear up in the next day or two. It didn't.

Over the next 48 hours, Mini's eye became increasingly swollen. On examination, it appeared that her inner eyelid was very swollen and inflamed. So, off to the vet we went. Again.

The vet ummed and aahed, and confessed to not knowing much about chickens (does anyone?!). I held Mini firmly while the vet had a good look at the swelling. With barely a hesitation, she grabbed what I thought was a part of Mini's eye and pulled. I learned that hens can scream. It turns out that what I had assumed was a physical part of Mini was in fact solidified pus. Lovely. The eye swelling was instantly gone, and she peered at me with a blood shot and sore looking eye. The vet duly prescribed Baytril, and off we toddled.

All was going well, and I thought we might be in the clear. Until yesterday. Until Maeve.

Maeve detected a weakness in her flock mate, and took advantage. She set about Mini with a viciousness which was truly depressing. Both of Mini's eyes were targeted, and she has cuts on both eyelids. I brought the hen inside to bathe her wounds, and at that point discovered two small critters on Mini's neck. Lice, I presume. Great.

Taking my mite spray, I methodically sprayed each complaining hen. Maeve was banished to solitary, and can still be seen pacing in the greenhouse. I cleaned out the coop, smothering every surface with mite powder. I dressed the feed with poultry spice, and also added ACV to the water. Every little helps, to plagiarise a well known supermarket.

The other hens are ignoring Mini, which is quite normal. Last night, when I went out to give Mini her evening dose of medicine, her eye was gummed shut. I unstuck it, and she peered blearily at me. It was the same this morning. She is currently sat huddled in the border.

Time will tell.