dirt / By Amy Stewart

The Great Chick Shortage

For the most part, your chickens are going to be happy, healthy, uncomplicated creatures who live a surprisingly routine and predictable life. But if they get sick, you’ll search through your chicken-raising manual and find out that you’re expected to either perform veterinary care on the animal yourself, or chop her head off and eat her for dinner. Really, those seem to be the only two options most chicken experts offer.

But there is another way. When our hen Dolley got an impacted crop, we called around and found a bird vet who would see her. They were, in fact, delighted to have a chicken in the office, or at least that’s what they led us to believe in that way veterinarians have of allowing you to think that your pet is the most interesting and wonderful creature they’ve ever seen. They gave us a simple diagnosis and few treatment options; in the end, Dolley has simply learned to live with a stretched-out crop that doesn’t really digest food very well. And we have learned that she loves to sit on our lap and have her crop massaged, which helps get the food moving again and is kind of pleasant for all of us.

Another hen, Eleanor, developed problems at the other end of her digestive system. Sometimes when a chicken lays an egg, she pushes so hard that some of her innards end up — well — outward. It’s called a prolapsed vent, and it’s dangerous for a variety of reasons. This happened while I was out of town, so Scott was left to don rubber gloves, obtain various ointments, and become more intimate with the back end of a hen than any man ever wants to be. She wasn’t getting any better, and in a moment of desperate misery he took her to an emergency vet on a Saturday night, thinking she would have to be put to sleep but not wanting to do the deed himself. Lo and behold, that vet used to keep chickens and believed that he could save her. He gave her a cortisone shot and recommended some other ointments, and within a week or two Eleanor was back in business.

And although my husband has been known to grumble about the vet bills we’ve incurred over a two-dollar bird, I remind him that we paid nothing at all for our cat, and the cat has yet to lay an egg, eat a snail, pull up a weed, produce manure for the compost pile, or even come when called. Chickens are great pets. You’re going to love it. And the first time those little peeps fall asleep in the palm of your hand, you’ll wonder why you ever bothered having kids. This is way more fun. If you’ve got any chicken-raising questions, send them to me at amystewart@northcoastjournal.com and I’ll answer them in a future column.

1 2 SHARE