(photos to follow another time)
Four bedroom house on two acres. Buy now get a free set of chickens. How could we resist an offer like that?? Word of warning; read the fine print. The five free chooks were wormy, mitey and thin. One in particular was in bad way. "She'll be right' the ex-owner told us, but all I saw was a little grey bird in agony. One of her feet was grossly misshapened, crusty and scaly. I could see bone half way done here centre toe. We called her Manky Foot Chook. She spent her time hunkered down in the black bamboo grove; lame. The effort of walking was enormous. She could not use the overgrown foot at all, and had to balance its heavy weight. She did not have a very chooky life.
Five minutes on the internet and Dr Google diagnosed scaly leg mites. A real nasty case. So I posted a plea to the Chook forum; what to do, what to do. But no answer. So I called the vet. He said break her neck. Hmm, drastic. Being vegetarian I am out of the habit of being responsible for chook deaths. Sooo I prevaricated and then thought, bugger this! Poor little bird has suffered for years, she needs a chance. So I rang the vet back. "She'll most likely die on the table". Fair 'nuf, let fate throw the dice. So we booked her in. Her toe fell off the day before the big op, which failed to simplify things. Instead of taking off the worst effected toe stump, he took her whole foot bar the back spur. But she lived (the vet was enormously pleased with himself).
Home she came with her foot stump all bound up. We were also given her bloody foot in a plastic bag. What a considerate and rather disturbed vet! We kept her in a cat cage for three days while it did some basic healing and then let her out. She just stood around. It was fair disappointing. She single leg hoped over to a nearby tree and lay there. That was her routine for another four days. Then a dressing change. The vet, still radiant with self satisfaction, took her out the back while Mum and I waited. There was a distant chooky scream. But she came back intact if a little ruffled. Home again.
Then the magic began to happen. She started to use her stumpy leg to lean on, oh joy! Then slowing she began to occasionally hobble just lightly on it. A week later another dressing change (less traumatic – no screaming, skin healing but needing to 'granulate'). Her walking improves; she manages to get into her lawnmower-catcher nesting box and lays her first egg EVER. She begins to really walk on her leg, she keeps up with other chooks on their garden rounds. I catch her dust bathing, I cry. Another dressing change. Vet reports that Manky Foot Chook is 'plump'. I cry again. We change her name to Hoppy. Happy Hoppy. Complete now in her chookiness.
