Wednesday evening I went to tuck my chickens in for the night and when I performed my chicken count and I only had 15 hens. There should have been 16.
I counted my flock several more times, and my heart was in my stomach, because as a "chicken tender" you put a lot of effort into your flock, and it takes a bit of time and effort to raise them from day old babies through the egg layer stage of life. We all acknowledge the realization that something could, and usually does, happen to your flock, but it's never easy when it happens and perhaps because this was a project I started during Covid and in the wake of losing a much loved friend, but I have put a lot of emotion into these birds.
The Nurse and I searched and searched Wednesday night, but still came up empty handed. When the hen wasn't there Thursday morning, I knew she was gone for good. Thursday morning we did notice the top of the ceramic bird bath was overturned, therefore we assumed it was a raccoon or fox who had stolen our girl.
I just left the birdbath where is was, honestly because I was a little pissed off. How dare a woodland creature come by for a drink to wash down the chicken he stole from me!
I thought this was over.....
Saturday morning, I was talking to my mom on the phone via Facetime, and was showing her the chickens when I noticed a cicada walking across the top of the still overturned birdbath. I decided to flip the top over, and to my complete and utter shock, out came Thirteen, stumbling like a drunk who had been on an all night binge. I screamed to my mom, "Oh, my God! I found her!" Then chaos ensued.
Immediately the other chickens started chasing her as she ran towards the coop, trying to attack her. I was screaming at them to let go of her. She was confused and visibly not well, but wanted to be in her coop. She was covered in feces and blood. She was dragging her left wing and her left foot, but she was still very much alive. I caught up with her finally, separated her from the flock, who had clearly forgotten her in the 60 hours she was missing, and by some stroke of miraculism she started eating, drinking and protesting that she wanted to be with her flock again.
I gave her a bath, left her in a dog crate for the rest of the day, and by that evening you really couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with her. I have no idea how that little bird could have knocked that birdbath over on herself, perfectly, to cover up her body completely, but what is even more bizarre is that that she survived being under that ceramic birdbath top for 60 hours in the blazing heat and direct sunlight.
We have now saved this bird's life twice in the last 14 weeks, and I have decided that she is like a cat but with thirteen lives instead of nine. Well, 11..... She's down to 11 now, and lets hope she stays there. I can't handle the stress of saving her again or being without her.
