So Sunday evening I was upstairs reading when I heard a great chicken commotion. I galloped outside to find one, two, three chickens....no Minerva. The Heathers were in the carport, so I herded them back into their run. Perfect Ruby was still in the yard. Apparently the wing trimming job I'd done was not short enough to keep them inside the fence.
After the girls were secure I started my search for Minerva. A big clump of feathers in the neighbors' carport. Hmm, not good--I've seen raccoons around and there were a couple of very interested looking cats hanging about as well. A walk up the block revealed ever larger clumps of striped feathers, ending about a block away. Finally. I heard a chicken! I walked back to find a very apologetic neighbor whose dogs had gotten out and had brought home a free range chicken dinner.
Amazingly, Minerva was still on her feet, though with a huge gash on her back and a couple of puncture wounds. I caught her and took her to work. "chicken 911" I texted, but none of my chicken medicine friends were still up, so I muddled through and sewed her up, gorked her with pain medications, and yet again set up a chicken house in the kitchen. The next day she was eating and pooping, and had a lot to say. She whistles like a teakettle now when she sees me.
Today, she's out in the tractor--those in the chicken know tell me that her chicken "friends" would be more than happy to snack on her wounds--eew. Once her stitches are out in a week or so, I'll try her back with the rest of the flock. And EVERYONE gets their wings trimmed shorter. In the meantime, I've hired a security service....
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