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.

Some Good News, And Some Not So Good News

First, the good news. Doris seems to be responding well to the Tylan. At least, she is not getting worse and I can't hear any wheezing. The incarcerated ladies are bearing up quite well considering, restraining their protests until they clap eyes on me. I am once again scuttling about beneath window ledges in a bid to keep the peace. It's a case of cruel to be kind, however, so I am persevering.

The not so good news concerns the chicks. They are three weeks old today, and I took some more pics last night.

Chick 1.

Chick 2.

Chick 3.

As you can see, the lavender chick is looking rather red, comby and wattley. Unfortunately, the other two also look like they're heading the same way. I posted these pics on Twitter, where I have some followers who are much more experienced with chick sexing than me, and it seems that I might have three boys. Bah. I am most disappointed, especially as I was hoping to have just the one cockerel. It'll be another week before I can be totally sure, but the signs aren't good. The lavender chick is back to being Chick 2, and I am deliberately trying to distance myself from all three.

Not the best start to hatching.

Another Round Of Myco?

The weather is glorious here at the moment. Usually, the hens would be out from sun up to sun down, rearranging my planting schemes and sunbathing. Not this week, though. Because Doris is coughing.

After last nights human meal, I had some mashed potatoes and noodles left over. This is a feast for the chooks, who go absolutely crackers for mash. They bury their entire heads in it, and when the dish has been picked clean, nibble it from each other. It is always a joyous occassion. So, the eldest child took the treat bowl outside, and sat down to watch the show. After a few minutes, I was called outside because Doris was coughing. And she was. She was gobbling down pulverised spud at a rate of knotts, and then occassionally hacking as if she was on forty a day. At first I assumed pure chickenny greed, and that the daft bird was gorging herself and was going to be sick. However, I've never seen a chicken vomit. In fact, I'm not sure that they can.

Grabbing hold of her for a closer look, I could hear her wheezing. She was breathing heavily with her beak open, and when I put my ear to her back I could hear the tell tale 'clicking' that suggests respiratory infection. Looking her in the eye, I noticed some slight bubbling. All classic signs of a mild mycoplasma infection. Arse.

With a heavy heart, I plonked the poorly girl back on to the lawn. She let out a hoarse 'bok-ARK' just to show her displeasure, and I trudged back to the house to root out the Tylan. Doris is the eldest child's hen, and understandably he is anxious. Since the sad loss of Mini back in January, the girls have been hale and hearty. This is a disappointing set back. However, we have had mild myco outbreaks before that have responded well to Tylan, so my fingers are crossed. The hens are relegated to the Palace for the next few days, to avoid them slurping out of puddles. They aren't overly keen on the Tylanised water, but if all other options are removed, they have to drink it.

This morning, Doris is not wheezing. She is eating, reluctantly drinking, preening and dust bathing. All in all, she seems in good health. None of the other hens are showing obvious signs. With a bit of luck, by the weekend, everyone will be infection free.

Much hand washing is occurring before I go near the chicks.

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.....

Chickens Are Contagious

Well, a week on from Mini's trip to the vet, things seem to be improving. Her eye is still not right, but is an awful lot better than it was. She finished the Baytril course on Wednesday, and as she wasn't completely better I have put her on yet another Tylan course. She pootles about the garden with the others, making her distinctive 'meh-meh' sound and scoffing random bits of greenery, so I'm cautiously hopeful.

Sadly, it appears that Maeve has moved ahead of her in the pecking order, and there has been a fair bit of chasing. My lovely little Mini seems to be a born victim. Maeve charges at her, then stops short as Mini waddles away into the shrubbery. I knew that Maeve would shake up the pecking order, and I shouldn't be surprised that she's started at the bottom, but I still feel sad that Mini is getting harassed by the youngster. I'm a little embarrassed for her. However, she is eating, drinking her medicine and sleeping with the others, so no major problems.

A friend of mine, who has listened to my tales of chicken woe with a sympathetic ear, has just announced that she's expecting a quartet of hens. The coop has arrived, and now she just has to decide on which hens to keep. I feel strangely jubilant that someone else is going to know what I'm talking about when I mention bokking, crouching and chickenny vandalism.

I'm debating whether to warn her about her beautiful geraniums.

Quick Health Update

I have spent an anxious week observing the girls. Mini seems a little better in herself, but her eye still looks irritated. I have heard far more sneezes from the flock than I'd like, but they seem generally ok. The tylan course finishes tomorrow, and I'm reasonably hopeful that no one is going to die, so I shall carry on observing and fretting for a bit.

Mini has chosen now as the best time to moult. At first, when I found small piles of white feathers everywhere, I panicked. Then, it began to make sense. A bird in moult is more prone to illness, and as Mini has suffered from mycoplasma before, it's likely that the stress has made her symptoms resurface. We did have a ridiculously hot spell a few weeks ago, and I suspect that might have triggered the whole process. She is much more her old self since I began the tylan treatment, but can still be seen sitting hunched up and grumbling every so often. I can only imagine that keeping up with the latest feather trends is quite uncomfortable.

So, another first in my chicken keeping experience. I am truly amazed at how many feathers a bird can lose, without showing any bald patches. I'm considering going into the duvet business.

Uh Oh

While investigating Mini's symptoms, I found that Doris had a bubbly eye. This coupled with Mini's weird eyelid thing has led me to add a hefty dose of Tylan to the water, and instill a curfew on the Convent. The girls are mutinously glaring at me from the confines of their posh chicken pad, chattering at the injustice of being incarcerated long before dusk. As the weather has been so showery, there are a myriad of places for them to get a sneaky drink without having to take their medicine, so locking them in with the doctored source is the only way of insuring that they all get a share. They are not happy.

I had assumed that Mini was off her food, but the truth is much more upsetting. Because of the swelling to her inner eyelids, she is unable to see forwards. When she attempts to peck at something, she's missing it by about a centimeter. Her depth perception also appears to be out, and she can be seen pecking in mid air for her treats. I managed to get her to eat a few raisins by piling them up, so that every peck pretty much guaranteed a reward. My poor little splash hen is hungry, but the food must seem to disappear when she gets close. No wonder she's been miserable.

Belinda had just started her shift in the broody cage today, but in order to make sure she is dosed, she has been offered a brief reprieve. She is contenting herself with growling at me from the nest box.

Despite her vision problems, Min does seem able to locate the drinker, and I saw her have a long drink just after I added the Tylan. At least I know that she's getting a helping hand.

Update On Mini's Health

Doris, Belinda and Maude in chicken prison.

Suddenly realised that I've gone a bit quiet on the chook health front. Rest assured that this isn't my attempt to shield you from armageddon-like chook deaths, but just that I forgot. Which, if you think about it, must be a good thing.

Mini is wheezing considerably less. She is eating and drinking her medicine like a good chicken, and has also put on a bit of padding around the breastbone. Mabel has stopped firing goblets of snot across the garden, and the others are all fine. The tylan course finishes tomorrow, so hopefully we are out of the woods. About blooming time, quite frankly. Mini even laid a teeny egg yesterday, definite proof of a hen on the mend. Sick chickens don't bother wasting energy on eggs.

I really hope now that I've written this down that there isn't a sudden relapse. I'm not ashamed to admit to being a bit superstitious when it comes to my girls.

Quick Update

With a heavy heart, I took Delilah to the vet this afternoon, fully expecting to come home minus one chook. She was flat out in the box, gasping for air and generally looking at deaths door. The vet picked her up, examined her and made lots of 'hmmm, this doesn't look good' type noises. At this point, my stiff upper lip crumbled, and I made a bit of a prat of myself, sobbing over a chicken.

To my shock, the vet seemed pleased by her condition. He said that despite her obvious illness, her temperature was up, and that was good. A high temperature indicates an immune system response to infection. Delilah was giving it some!!! Mr. Vet seems fairly certain that D has mycoplasma, an extremely common respitory illness in poultry. Apparently, myco can put a hen off her feet, as the joints are swollen and painful.

He promptly injected her with something I've forgotten the name of, told me to keep syringing water into her beak at regular intervals and to give her a course of Tylan, an antibiotic.

I can't even begin to explain how delighted I was to leave that examining room with one live hen. She's not out of the woods by a long shot, but there is hope. And while there's hope, there'll be a vaguely deranged woman in a dressing gown, syringing sugar water into a pissed off hen at 9pm.