As you can probably guess from the picture above, I lost another hen… a friend, really. I really do get far too attached to these animals, but how can I not? They greet me every morning with a cluck (hens) or a nose bump (bunnies). They are happy to see me… or maybe it’s the food I have in my hand ;0}
Vandana was such a wonderful hen. She was always by my side when I was working in the garden, patiently waiting for a worm. She’d come to the back door and beg for sunflower seeds… I usually gave in. That’s how I knew something was wrong… she wasn’t eating the seeds. In fact, she wasn’t even leaving the coop. She was hunkered down, as if she were laying an egg. That is where she was when I left for work… and where she still was when I returned. I hoped she had gotten out into the yard while I was gone, but I had a sinking feeling that this was not the case.
The following morning she came out of the coop and followed the posse. I was relieved… but noticed she was walking a little slow and kept an unusual distance. Later in the day she was off by herself, soaking up the warmth of the sun in her dust bath. By sundown they were all huddled up in the coop. I was hopeful it was over.
The next morning she came out of the coop slowly. All three girls came to the door for sunflower seeds. They usually body-block each other to get the most seeds, but not this morning. Vandana just looked up at me, with her feathers all fluffed up. My other two hens, Loshka and Suki, were eating up all the seeds, and Vandana just sat there… dozing. THAT was not like her at all.
I had to go to work… but couldn’t stop thinking about my little Vandana… I found myself using my 15 minute break to look up her symptoms. What I found, frightened me. Everything pointed to being egg bound… which, if left untreated, can be fatal. At the very least, I needed to get her warm, so she could relax. I rushed home on my lunch break, cranked up the heat in our small bathroom and ran the shower to get it humid, and made a soft spot for Vandana. She quietly sat there and just looked at me. She had never been inside the house before… let alone in the bathroom with a shower running. I hoped all would be okay by the time I returned from work.
When I got back from work, I could see that she had not moved… she was still all fluffed and very drowsy. Decided to try the next thing on my list… a soak in a warm bath. I wasn’t sure how she was going to handle being in a tub full of water, let alone getting her to stay there for at least 20 minutes. Plus, I had to get the water high enough to cover her rear… luckily I read somewhere that I could apply pressure on her tail and help her settle down into the water. She did settle right down… and then she hardly moved. She did take a couple sips of the water. I dried her and kept her in the bathroom the rest of the night. She didn’t move much.
The next morning I tried to be hopeful. I had the day off so I could keep an eye on her. It was going to be a warm day, so I decided put her back outside. She did not MOVE. And now her tail was down… she looked more like a penguin, than a chicken. She acted like she was no longer capable of walking. I picked up my poor hen and brought her back inside. This time I placed a heating pad under a towel inside a cat carrier. I wanted a dark, warm place for her. I detached the top so I could place her down into the carrier and not squeeze her through the little door. Didn’t want to cause her any more undue stress. She seemed a little off-balance… actually tried to walk out of the carrier, but ended up using her wings almost like crutches. I placed her back inside, there she settled in where she leaned into the side of the carrier and rested her head… I found a vet’s office that saw chickens. They had an opening at 3:30pm.
Getting her to the vet’s office was uneventful. When we got there, I filled out paperwork and then we waited. All I could do was watch her. I’d stroke her head, and she would just look at me… then she would close her eyes. I kept telling her it would be over soon… and apologizing for taking so long to get her help.
The tech and then the vet came into the room. We decided to go with an x-ray… the least invasive way to see what was going on. I must confess part of me was stressing over the money (I had my own medical bills I was struggling to pay). The x-ray was going to cost me $79… and that was just the x-ray.
The x-ray showed no egg… but my little Vandana was clearly in distress. The vet thought maybe there was an infection and that she was showing signs of dehydration. The plan was to give her fluids under the skin, and send us home with antibiotics and electrolytes… with further instructions to keep her separated from the others until she was back to her normal self. While they had her in the back, giving her fluids, the dollar signs were running through my head, trying to figure out what costs I could cut elsewhere. You see, when I bring an animal into my home/heart, I promise to do all I can to keep them happy, safe, and healthy… at all costs. I chose to join their lives to mine… they are my responsibility.
So my head was already whirling when the vet walked back into the room. My first thought was that she was just updating me… but then she stepped past the table and came close to me. I remember that her hands were folded… I could see she was talking, but it took a moment to realize what she was saying… as they were treating Vandana she became extremely stressed. The vet said she threw her head back and then she was gone – just like that. I just sat there. I had no idea what to do next. She asked if I wanted to take her home to bury her, or if they should add her in with one of the other animals for cremation. I told her I could not bury another animal. I just couldn’t do it… not so soon after losing Goldie. But then the dollar signs started running through my head again… and then guilt for even worrying about such a thing when Vandana had just passed. The vet came closer and put her hand on the back of my shoulder… that seemed to set off my tears. Her touch made it real… and then, as if reading my mind, she said that there would be no charge for any of the services, seeing as she had passed while under their care.
The tech brought in the empty pet carrier… and told me she was holding Vandana when she passed… it was comforting to know that she was in a warm lap when she passed and not on a cold metal table. I carried the empty pet carrier to the car. I tossed it in the back and then just sat in my car and sobbed. Sad that I couldn’t save Vandana… that her last days with me were so miserable… and relieved that I had no vet bill, and then miserable for even thinking about money at a time like this.
It is strange to look out into my garden and only see two chickens wandering around…
BIG little BIG ... life as I see it. 