On Tuesday we lost Chippy. It was all rather sudden and unexpected, and we are very sad. The Friday before, we'd been to the vets with Bessie, one of our older rescue chickens. She has a hormonal implant, and it was showing signs of wearing off. We noticed Chippy seemed a tiny bit quieter than usual, but nothing to unduly worry about. We kept an eye on her over the weekend, and by Monday she was still walking around and eating, but out of sorts enough for us to ring the vets, who squeezed her in that afternoon. By the time we got there, she was looking rather more unwell, but had a hormonal implant, and antibiotics, and anti inflammatories. She had a few treats, and slept in the hen house with the others. She was no better the next morning, so we brought her into the house, and got her nice and cosy on a bed of hay near the radiator. She stayed there, occasionally having a treat, and letting us give her medicine and a little bit of water with a syringe. Later in the afternoon she slipped away. Chippy wasn't a rescue hen. We got her, and two others, as point of lay hens last summer, after we lost our two older rescues, Mildred and Maud, in quick succession. That was painful, and we thought if we got younger hens, they'd stay healthy for longer. The teenagers soon settled in, and eventually the older rescues stopped objecting quite so much, and they all got along reasonably well. The young chickens, or Imposters, as we called them, found their way around, and developed their favourite spots. They always loved the hay field, and spent most of their time in there, digging for grubs. Chippy was the friendliest of the three. In the first few days, she jumped on my head when trying to get away from one of the older ones. She didn't like being picked up, but would happily jump on a knee or even a shoulder to investigate opportunities for treats. Chippy had her own special little noise, a kind of toot, more owl than chicken. She was the fastest chicken I've ever known, speeding across the run at the first hint of a grape, knocking the others flying. She could jump pretty high if she spotted something exciting in your hand. She was quite a character. Which makes it all the more sad that she's now gone, at only a year old, with the last almost four months of that spent in chicken lockdown, shut in the run. I never thought we'd lose the younger ones first. Too sad. We've buried her under the fruit trees, like we did with the others, and will do our best to carry on her legacy, always investigating, chasing treats, seeing what's going on. We'll miss you little Chippy-O.
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Hello!Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm Jenni, and I write here about our new foray into country living, which includes growing food, knitting, baking, wandering around the fields, and seeing which local cafe serves the best cake. Categories
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