Maeve Bounces Back

I'm very pleased to report that Maeve seems none the worse for wear after her exorcist moment. When I checked her crop the next morning, it was empty but slightly stretched. I fed her some sloppy pellet porridge for breakfast, which she devoured, and then kept an eye on her for the rest of the morning. When I saw her produce a particularly large poo, I knew that her crop must be emptying. With relief, I let her out with the others. She strutted from the coop, ruffled her feathers, and growled at me. Giving me the evil eye, she waltzed off in to the shrubbery. No doubt if she had fingers, she'd have been making some very interesting signs with them. Ungrateful cow. I've watched her closely, and she is back to her usual, narky self. Bless her.

I have advertised the peeps as free to a good home. Every day, I hope that the phone will ring and that the person on the end will have a burning need for a boy chicken to keep their girls company. Of course, this person will also live on a lovely smallholding, which will be a sort of chicken paradise. The chosen cockerel will live a long, disease free life, and email me weekly. As far fetched as this sounds, I have in fact found just such a home for the silkies.

Yes, the silkies are heading for pastures new. I have mixed feelings to be honest. I am glad that they are going to such a wonderful home, and also that I will still get to hear how they're doing from time to time. Yet I feel awful, crushing guilt about rehoming them at all. The thought of having to give up any of my other girls makes me feel slightly nauseaous, though, so I know that my own sense of failure should not stop me doing right by the fluffy ones. Hopefully their new owner will adore them the way that they deserve to be adored, rather than finding them vaguely baffling.

On a more positive note, I'd like to announce that I have today ordered two new pekin ladies. At least one will be frizzled. I'll have to wait a few weeks before my new girls will be ready, so I have time to find the peeps their new accomodation.

Wish me luck.

Emergency ASBO

Maeve decided to throw me a curve ball today. While I stood at the sink, refilling the drinker, I noticed that Maeve had something stuck to her face. A white something. A white something that made her look like the 'Phantom of the Opera'. Odd. I went outside to investigate.

As I got closer, I decided that she must have walked in to some cuckoo spit. It was exactly the same texture and consistency. Moving my hand to wipe it away, Maeve yawned expansively and coughed up more of the weird white stuff. That's not good. I have never seen a hen vomit, in fact I wasn't sure that they could, but Maeve was having a damn good go.

Grabbing the small black chook, I peered down her throat. Her throat muscles were in constant motion, and her crop felt hard. My first thought was poisoning. I frantically tried to think if there was any way that she could have got a hold of any slug pellets/rose fertiliser/garden lime. I grabbed her by the legs, and held her upside down. I have never done this in two years of chicken keeping, but vaguely remembered reading it was a fast way to clear the crop. I massaged the lump in her crop, stroking it down towards her beak. More mucus was gradually expelled, getting thicker. Every few minutes, I righted her and gave her time to calm down. This wasn't pleasant for either of us. Suddenly, there was some long pieces of grass all wrapped around each other and some mashed up pellets at the back of her throat. I gently reached in and pulled it free.

All the while I was doing this, I was watching Maeve carefully. Her face got darker at this point, and I quickly righted her and soothed her panic. Deciding that enough was enough, I took her straight to the vet.

The vet concluded that her crop was only about a quarter full, and with luck the remaining blockage would pass on its own. He wanted to keep her in over night for observation, but I opted to bring her home. A vet's holding room, full of cats and dogs, is not exactly a stress free environment for a prey animal. At home, she should be less stressed and recover more quickly. He also wanted to give her antibiotics because of the mucus, but as she's just finished a course of Tylan along with the other girls, I declined.

The rest of the flock have been banished from the Palace until bedtime, and Maeve is pacing the run with only the drinker and grit for company. She is alert and active, which is a good sign, and even growled at me when I went out to check on her just now. That's my girl.

However, the vet has planted a seed of worry in my brain. He mentioned the fact that the lump in her crop might be a physical issue, such as a tumour. He seemed quite keen on whipping his scalpel out to investigate. After losing Mini to anaesthetic, I am extremely reluctant to put any of my girls through such an invasive procedure.

So now I'm hoping that this is a fluke event, never to be repeated, and not the beginning of a severe problem.

(By the way, I have since been informed that hanging a bird upside down to clear the crop is not a good idea. Far better to hold the bird upright and stroke the crop upwards. The method I used makes it more likely that the bird will choke. I am lucky I didn't kill her)