Peep girl on her way to the Avian Health Lab.

I think there is an inverse correlation between the number of chickens you keep, and the amount of work you invest in keeping them. When we had 60 birds as a kid, I know for a fact all we did was the bare minimum because Dad and I were largely the ones doing chicken chores. We did the water, unfreezing it in the winter, cleaning the coop once a year in the spring, and closing up at night. Well, we have less than a dozen birds and so far this week I’ve been running an infirmary with separate food, water and run area for a little girl with a broken leg (hand carrying to and from apartment in the coop to run area, with Mr. Merlin lurking about watching). Try tucking a hoe under your arm, chicken under the other wriggling and trying to get away, food (because you only want to skulk around once in case Merlin gets frisky) all while trying to do this FAST because you’re on the way to drop boys off at school, and it’s POURING fat drops of rain, constantly.

So last night, Mr. Dave invited a man from headquarters up for dinner since the poor guy is hanging out here away from his family to help with a project. It has been nice to meet a few of the visitors – we got to have dinner with another gentleman last weekend. So Dave springs this dinner on me…but thankfully I had a very nice roast in the fridge (I had no idea I’d bought a $25 roast!) and salmon, potatoes, broccoli…plenty to make a nice dinner. And Dave is a good cook. So that was all well and good. But just as he pulls up in the driveway I’m out with my headlamp on and a dead chicken on a shovel. I found the second of two peep girls dead on the floor of the coop as I was doing my evening tending. I knew she was in bad shape – I saw the same symptoms 10 days ago when we lost the first peep girl. I am sad, but have tried dosing everyone else with antibiotics. WHICH, by the way, is hard to do – you dose via waterer, well the chickens are NOT thirsty because water is all around them right now. They are essentially drinking potty water from puddles. So to think they are getting enough antibiotic from their waterer…unlikely. And I’m doing enough hand watering through a hamster waterer for the Barred Rock who is injured. I’m not hand watering Merlin. No way. I am making sure I see them drink at least some. I might try to find medicated feed instead. I think they make that for chicks, not sure about adult chickens. So anyway – I am trying to prevent the mystery illness from striking other chickens, especially ones we’ve named and hatched. Dave is laughing at me because the only two laying hens we had have died (the others are too young – not laying just yet – or are older and haven’t come online yet from the molt). So we are feeding a whole bunch of unproductive hens right now and have had to buy eggs for the first time this year. Humiliating to the chicken enthusiast who is typing out this whole sodden story. So back to the chicken and the shovel – I buried her in a shallow grave and covered it with leaves and sticks so I could figure out where it was later should I need to get her. I called the WA State Dept of Agriculture and talked to a very kind vet who knows all things chicken. He said since I’ve had two deaths now the state will pay for shipping the bird in for avian influenza testing if I pay for the necropsy (about $20). I am totally for that. And as it turns out, a friend and farmer has had a few deaths of the same symptoms, so she is interested in what I find out. It doesn’t sound like avian influenza – no respiratory involvement – but there are different kinds. Hopefully they will figure this out. In the meantime, again back to the shovel – I finished burying and came in for dinner. This morning I did chicken chores, raced off to school with Ben for stretch math (45 min weekly with 5 kids in Sam’s class) and then back to quickly dig up the chicken before a teleconference for work. So I am out there digging up the chicken, trying to find her again under the leaves, wondering how wet she’ll be (and how awful wet feathers might smell). I got her into a plastic bag then called the avian health lab to see how they wanted her shipped. I was told to coat her with soapy water to keep her cool, then pack her in ice. I got the ice, I doused her in water (it’s pouring out, too) and skipped the soap. I had had enough, really. I put her in a box – thankfully Dave gets a lot of packages, so I save chicken-sized boxes – you just never know – and put in the ice. Then I called FedEx to arrange pickup as I was wrapping the box in duct tape (thinking to myself, you only package things with duct tape if it’s something criminal – so this box looks a little suspicious). I’m on the phone with FedEx and she’s going – and is it ready now? “Yes – packing it up now!” Then “And how much does the package weigh?” Uhhh…”Five pounds, approximately.” I really am so excited to find out what is going on. I am MORE than half tempted to drive to Puyallup tomorrow with Ben to watch the necropsy. In fact…I may just call and see if we can.

I asked the vet how I can become a mid-level chicken practitioner – like a PA for chickens. He said the best route there would be vet tech. Hmmm…maybe. Just maybe. Dave is shaking his head. So all this is going on and I didn’t get to eat breakfast until noon. That is how most days are here. Did I mention I was invited to write a series of articles on chicken husbandry for an online paper here? I am excited and that entree is allowing me to showcase my friends who are farmers and backyard enthusiasts, and torment nice vets with questions 🙂