Weekly Chicken Update - Edith Rising

Never underestimate chickens, the closest living relatives of Tyrannosaurus Rex. They may have fragile bones and bodies, be prey to countless predators, and are easy victims of disease and parasites, but they nevertheless surprise with their ability to recover even when recovery seems to be against the odds. 

One week ago, I was concerned that Edith (a 2-year-old Icelandic Viking hen) was dying or would require special care for the rest of her life. Over several days she experienced decreasing mobility, eventually becoming unable to stand or get into the coop at night. She could move, but only in an army crawl. Her tail was down, and she was not using her wings. Her symptoms might have resulted from an injury or any number of diseases that could affect the entire flock, so I moved her into isolation and made an appointment with the chicken vet, Dr. Beth Rhyne (Bird House Mobile Exotic Vet https://www.birdhousemobilevet.com/). 

Under normal circumstances, I would isolate a sick or injured bird in a kennel on the workbench in the barn. But winter temperature fluctuations and an issue with rodents in the barn nixed that option, so Edith has been living her best spa life in my bathtub for over a week. Obviously, this is less than ideal, but it was the best way to provide her the care and restful environment she needed. 

I brought Edith inside on a Saturday morning. The first step in treating her was to give her an Epsom salt herbal soak, which was soothing and could ease her symptoms. After her spa treatment, I examined her and found no indication of injury, bumblefoot, signs that she was egg-bound, or that she had an impacted crop. She seemed to be eating, drinking, and pooping as normal. Her comb was a typical pretty red, her eyes were bright, and she was alert. 

Spa Soak

Feeling pretty after her bath

Between Saturday and the vet appointment on Wednesday, I pulled every anti-inflammatory/medicinal herb I could think of out of my home apothecary. For the first two days she was in the house, I tempted her to eat with a mix of steel-cut oats, yellow grits, dandelion roots, lavender, St. John's wort, chamomile, rosemary, echinacea, bee balm, and chopped apple. Once I was certain she was eating, I replaced the oats with her regular feed. Local stores were out of Hydro-Hen, so I added Sav-a-Chick electrolytes and probiotics, rooster booster, and rose water to her water. There were also plenty of conversations with the land spirits and with Brigid, whose altar oversees the barn and chicken coop. 

Part of the trickiness of keeping a chicken isolated is its extremely social nature. Being away from her flock can cause depression, negatively affecting physical recovery and even the will to live. 
Friends who also keep chickens offered suggestions on how to make Edith as comfortable as possible while she was confined, and I found a few helpful tips on websites as well. 

Lining the tub with puppy pads and putting pine shavings on top of those made for easy cleanup every other day. At one point, I had an "oh duh" moment and brought a small pine branch in for her to roost. A ticking clock, two mirrors suspended from the shower rod and towel bar, and a stuffed chicken friend named Nellie helped round things out in the bathroom. 

Fresh air, sunlight, and contact with the earth are some of the most beneficial natural medicines available to every living being. Weather permitting, I took Edith outside for an hour or two of free-range time each day. Even when she wasn't moving well, she foraged and pecked and seemed happy being where she really belonged. 

By Tuesday, I could see that she was starting to get depressed. On Wednesday, the vet said that she also thought Edith seemed a little depressed, so we took Edith's care up another notch. I fixed up a basket with the same puppy pad/pine shaving set up, and Edith spent time every day hanging out with the rest of the fam in other parts of the house (she's definitely a fan of British mysteries on Britbox) I kept an amused but watchful eye on her blooming friendship with Mojo, the youngest feline resident of Bear Path Cottage. Side note: tell people you have a chicken in a basket and watch the range of expressions that cross their face.

From what I have read and what friends have told me, people often have a hard time finding veterinary care for their chickens. I feel fortunate that we have access to a good vet team and even more so that they make coop calls. Dr. Beth Rhyne and Veterinary Assistant Delilah Wilson were non-plussed by conducting an exam in a bathroom and were, as always,  kind and gentle with Edith. She weighed in at 1.27 kg (2.79 pounds), and Delilah remembered that Edith had been the smallest bird in the flock when they did a flock check last year. 

Their examination of Edith didn't reveal any injuries, either. Labs were drawn, samples taken, and they left us with encouraging words and a prescription for a broad-spectrum antibiotic to start getting some medication on board. 

Wednesday through Friday the days passed much the same. Edith grew more vocal, communicating with my husband and me and with the kitten who went into the bathroom every time one of us did. Although there was no real improvement in her mobility, she didn't seem to be losing ground, either; still eating, drinking, and having the expected results of those activities. 

Saturday afternoon, I went in to pick her up to go outside and was surprised to see her standing in the bathtub. She walked a few steps, wobbly as a weeble. I took her out into the warm fresh air, and although she tired very quickly, she walked her wobbly walk for a distance of 10 feet or so. She has continued to improve every day since then. On Sunday, she looked like Jack Sparrow at his worst, and by today she was walking with a perfectly normal gait.

I heard her in the bathroom before I was even out of bed this morning. She was talking up a storm, probably griping or psyching herself up for the effort, and then I heard the very distinctive sound of her hopping up to the edge of the bathtub and then down to the floor. She seemed quite proud of herself when I went in, and made it clear she is done with being held captive.

Less than an hour later I received good news from the vet. Edith's lab results came in with no evidence of liver failure or kidney disease, no fecal parasites, and the only bacteria that showed in the culture was E. coli in both the blood and cloacal cultures. The fungal culture results have not come in yet, but the vet is confident we are on the right treatment track. E. coli is sensitive to the antibiotic Edith is already taking, so we will continue that course of treatment. 

Chickens carry E. coli in their system all the time. For some reason (cold? rain? mud? stress?), the levels in Edith's system broke through the normal barrier and made her ill. More good news: other than adding some probiotics to their water, this is not something that I need to treat the rest of the flock for.

This means no round of antibiotics for everyone that would put us in an egg desert, throwing away 3-4 dozen eggs a week for two months. Even better, I can start the process of reintegrating Edith into the flock. This will happen at a slower-than-usual pace because even though she is showing great improvement she still gets tired very quickly. I do not want anything to happen that could jeopardize her total recovery. 

I really thought my chicken day could not get any better than it was when I received that good news. 

But when I took Edith outside this afternoon, she did something that made me have the best chicken day ever.

I wish I had been able to get it on video so you could see it. Chickens have this funny, endearing, wonderfully lolloping way of running and flapping their wings when they are happy. I watched Edith run across the yard like that not once but twice, as if her fierce little heart just could not contain its joy.  As if she had never been happier. As if she hadn't a care in the world. 

Seeing that rising joy made all the concern, worry, and work of the entirety of my time keeping chickens worthwhile. And it brought home the depth of emotion that comes with honoring my commitment to holding life sacred as I work with this land. 

Edith spent two hours free ranging in the yard with her sister Mae today. In another place and time, Edith and Mae were my dearest great-aunt and my grandmother. Tomorrow I'll bring Marg and Gussie, the other Viking sisters, out too. 

My heart is content. I hope theirs are as well - the chickens and the Gone Befores.

Soul Journey

I spent much of last fall and this winter in a state of existence moving between hibernation, torpor, and wakefulness, and I have had very little contact with the world beyond my own. An exception to my inward focus has been my participation in a weekly writing group, and that gathering always nourishes my spirit.  

The topic of this series has been Soul Journey, and tonight's subject was about the moment one says yes to their soul's particular journey. I have been thinking about this for quite some time, as my life has shifted significantly over the past 13 months, and I am often in awe of the changes. 

No one moment, no round-headed pin on the map, no single enlightened conversation brought me to the point of commitment to the road I am traveling. I have walked so far, through so many different landscapes, dark beneath the weeping willows, bright atop the mountains, but it has only ever been a journey made by moving one step at a time.

Distance and time have no real meaning to me anymore. Years of struggle, years of therapy, years of work. Tears of pain. Sometimes I would bargain with my demons and myself to get through a day or a mile or the longest nights. Just get through this meeting. Just get through this day. Just walk to the next bench, then the next one. Just swim this lap. Run this water mile. Ten more steps. Ten more minutes. Five. Just make it five minutes without leaving this place, and then you can think about it again if you need to.

I say yes to this journey every morning that I wake and then a thousand times a day, and I do so gladly and joyfully. Every time I get out of bed, every food and water dish I fill, everything I plant and plan, everything I harvest, every bee I talk to, bear I observe, coyote that sings me to sleep. “Mother, keep me mindful…Give me your work, which is to be joyous and to tend all things because all things live of themselves and with your spirit. Your will through mine, So mote it be.”

The conversations with myself, my spirit, my heart, and my brain have changed now. I have no more thoughts of leaving because I am already gone from where it matters most. Where it now matters least. 

Now, the most adorable love cats in the world to talk with. Now, the wild pup who is my homestead work partner. Now, the chickens with their nonsense and demands. Now, the land spirits with their whimsical humor. Now, the divine who never left me, even when I blinded myself to her presence. Now, the life partner whose own fractures never keep him from being the rock I can lean against when I have need.

Now, I am home. 

Sunday Morning Musings and Chicken Update - Edith

Chicken tending started differently this morning, as little Edith, the butterscotch calico Viking, is still in the chicken infirmary. Two things you should know: (1) Edith is the only butterscotch calico Icelandic Viking chicken in the history of the world because I made up the butterscotch calico part of her identity. Those two words perfectly describe her appearance, and she is who she is. (2) The chicken infirmary is currently my bathtub. 

Under normal circumstances and during warmer times of the year, chickens that need a soak for either medical or grooming reasons have their spa day outside. They soak, get a bit of a towel dry, then finish drying in the sun. If one is ill or injured and needs to be isolated, I put them in a dog kennel on the bench in the barn where I can easily monitor them, and they have the comfort of being near the other chickens. Unfortunately, Edith's illness or injury occurred when it was too cold to have allowed her to go outside until her feathers were completely dry. I also did not like the idea of her being confined in a kennel when I knew rats were getting into the barn. 

And so, to the horror of the wonderful person who cleaned the bathroom on Friday, there has been a chicken in my bathtub since Saturday morning, doing everything chickens do. I will leave the details to your imagination. Edith is currently not using her wings to jump up or fly, so her activities are at least contained within the tub. I promise I will clean the bathroom top to bottom with every antibacterial product under the sun once Edith is released back to the general population. 

She greeted me sweetly when I entered the bathroom this morning, which is a return to her usual demeanor. Yesterday she ate a thin mixture of oatmeal with apple bits, dandelion, chamomile, bee balm, and cinnamon. I also added electrolytes and probiotics to her water. She is eating and drinking (this morning, she had oatmeal with the same herbs, plus rice and peas). She does not appear to be egg-bound; she most definitely is not constipated, nor is her crop impacted or sour. Her comb is still an excellent, bright red, which leads me to think she may be dealing with an injury instead of an illness. 

Her movements seem a bit more steady/less wobbly this morning, and I think she is improving. Keeping her in the infirmary allows her to stay warm and dry and access food and water without much movement and with no competition. As long as she tolerates this change in circumstance, it is in her best interests to keep her indoors to improve her chances of recovery. But the second she is well enough to hop up onto the edge of the bathtub, she is going back outside where she belongs. 

I care a great deal about my chickens. I have a strong spiritual and ethical commitment to caring for them. But they do not belong in the house. Nope. 

When I finally went outside to tend the other birds, Mary made it very clear he has not forgiven me for taking Edith away yesterday. The hens seemed concerned, so I informed them that Edith is improving and should return to them soon. By the time I finished filling the feeders and waterers and mucking the coop, all was well with the flock. 

There was a hen-pecked brown egg in the nesting boxes, and I used that to do an egg cleanse of negative energy before I left the barn. Five minutes of earnest conversation with Brigid at her altar which overlooks the barn, then I was ready to move on with my day. 

Of course, no morning is complete without time spent playing with Hank in the south yard. That routine is essential to his well-being and has become part of the ritual that is essential to mine. I sit on the porch of the woodshop and wait for the first kiss of sunlight on my face - and that is when my day truly begins. 

"Mother, keep me mindful..." the first line of my daily prayer, cast upon the ley lines between earth and water, fire and air...

Good morning, peeps. 

Imbolc: A Time of Hope and Dreams

Before the sun rose on Imbolc, I reclaimed Brigid's mantle from the slender arms of the hawthorn tree which grows above her altar. Gathering the fabric into both hands, I held it to my face and inhaled the mingled scents of moonlight and fresh dew. It was an intuitive act that linked the peaceful early morning ambiance, the cool texture of the cloth against my skin, and the pleasing smell with the magic of the mantle. I love the very thought of having this gentle healing magic available in my home health kit. 

Later in the day, I took a walk around the Cottage proper, connecting with the comfort and shelter of home after having been out and about in the world for a while. The disquiet I experience when I am away makes it clear that I am not ready to leave my inward focused time behind. Truth be told, I probably never will be. I am okay with that. 

As this day reminds me, Spring is coming. She always does. Whether I stay at home or wander into the world, growth, new birth, renewal, and change will continue to happen all around me and within me. The weight of the world sometimes blurs that hope and reality, but the peaceful magic of  Bear Path Cottage has become a touchstone that helps to clear my vision. 

The daffodils that were gifted to me by a friend last year are already pushing their way out of the ground. The garlic is doing the same thing. And it was cheery and uplifting to see new growth and buds on the apple trees, elderberry, juneberry, and forsythia today. 

I have worked hard over the last four years to build the foundations of this tiny homestead, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction and contentment to see that work paying off. During the upcoming growing season, I will be making some significant changes to the vegetable garden as well as working on the native plants pollinator garden. A recent shift in managing the chickens means they are starting to pay for their own upkeep! I am grateful for their help in that regard. It gives me a good feeling to be able to share the abundance of the Cottage with friends and neighbors. 

Imbolc historically marks the beginning of the lambing season. Although I love them and think they are adorable, there are no lambs at Bear Path Cottage. The pace of garden work is slowly picking up as the weather permits, but in this still-quiet time, I will continue to dream about creating beautiful spaces, growing flowers, and harvesting fruits, berries, and veggies to nourish myself and my family.  My hopes are running high. 

Apple Tree

Daffodils

Forsythia

Juneberry Tree