Winter in Spring
The peeps are now in their second big week. On Saturday, they were allowed outside for the first time. Babd and I went into town and bought a new Blue Broom of Justice, as the old one just isn't doing the job anymore. Mostly because it's now the Blue Stick of Pathos, having lost all its bristles.
Our friend came out to see the historic event as the peeps were rounded up and turned loose in the only really nice grassy patch anywhere near our house.
The first day, they all stuck together and peeped piteously, obviously feeling insecure about the whole thing. It didn't help that a Steller's Jay sat in a tree not far away, shrieking at the poor things the whole time. Jealous, I'm sure.
The chicks have been growing at a phenomenal rate, and are now at the stage where they're no longer little feathery balls, but have grown both legs and necks. They're still working on their coordination, so you'll see them often stretching their legs, then standing up and stretching up their little necks, then squnching down again as though being that tall were a very scary prospect. Somehow, although this is now our fourth batch of chicks, I just don't remember any of our other chicks growing at quite this phenomenal rate.
They've got their flight feathers and the more adventurous among them are flying, rather than walking, around their little enclosure. They've graduated up from the 2 tiny, 8-hole feeders we were using to the giant trough feeder, and from the little 1-quart waterer to the 1-gallon waterer.
The downside of this sort of exponential growth is problems like spraddle. Spraddle is a condition where the bird's legs are abnormally developed and won't support her. Because she can't walk, she can't eat or drink and can become very weak. Birds are cruel, and if one of our hens is just lying there, the other ones will peck at her. The one we had before was one of our meat chickens, and for a week before we finally killed her, she was in a box in the garage, separated from the other birds so that she could reach the food and water.
The causes of spraddle vary. In pet birds, it's often caused by dietary problems like a lack of calcium or too much phosphorus. It's harder to pin down in a large flock where only one bird displays the symptoms, although growing too fast can also cause it, as the bones of the legs aren't strong enough to support the quickly-increasing weight of the bird.
Last night, as I was cleaning the baby coop, I found one of our Buff Orpingtons lying in the shavings, not moving. I thought she might just be sleepy and reluctant. If you poke a chick with your hands, they'll wake up just fine and move themselves along, but this one wasn't going anywhere. The Pirate and I looked at her and the way she wasn't moving and said to each other "Does that look like spraddle to you?" Yeah. It did.
We picked her up and put her in a box with shavings and food and water, but she wasn't eating. She was so weak and pathetic that every time we reached into the box, she would nudge her way into our hands, plainly wanting to be held and comforted. She was cold, she was tired, and we felt warm.
We took her upstairs and I ended up giving her water through a syringe and food through a baby spoon (having to first reduce her regular feed to a fine powder and mix it with water). She perked up a little, and we woke up in the night to look at her, but by morning she was even weaker and plainly giving up the struggle. By the time I was dressed this morning, she had laid down under the food dish and wasn't moving.
The problem is that even if we could cure her (and the cure for spraddle requires a month of round-the-clock treatment and monitoring), she would never be as large or strong as the other hens, and could likely be killed anyway. The Pirate and I agreed that the right thing to do was cull her from the flock now, rather than letting her suffer for who knows how long.
She died quietly and peacefully, but the Pirate and Babd and I all cried over it at home, and I cried most of the way to work. It was raining as I left this morning, so the sky was crying too, and I felt cold and sad.
Being steward of other living things is really, really hard sometimes.
Our friend came out to see the historic event as the peeps were rounded up and turned loose in the only really nice grassy patch anywhere near our house.
The first day, they all stuck together and peeped piteously, obviously feeling insecure about the whole thing. It didn't help that a Steller's Jay sat in a tree not far away, shrieking at the poor things the whole time. Jealous, I'm sure.
The chicks have been growing at a phenomenal rate, and are now at the stage where they're no longer little feathery balls, but have grown both legs and necks. They're still working on their coordination, so you'll see them often stretching their legs, then standing up and stretching up their little necks, then squnching down again as though being that tall were a very scary prospect. Somehow, although this is now our fourth batch of chicks, I just don't remember any of our other chicks growing at quite this phenomenal rate.
They've got their flight feathers and the more adventurous among them are flying, rather than walking, around their little enclosure. They've graduated up from the 2 tiny, 8-hole feeders we were using to the giant trough feeder, and from the little 1-quart waterer to the 1-gallon waterer.
The downside of this sort of exponential growth is problems like spraddle. Spraddle is a condition where the bird's legs are abnormally developed and won't support her. Because she can't walk, she can't eat or drink and can become very weak. Birds are cruel, and if one of our hens is just lying there, the other ones will peck at her. The one we had before was one of our meat chickens, and for a week before we finally killed her, she was in a box in the garage, separated from the other birds so that she could reach the food and water.
The causes of spraddle vary. In pet birds, it's often caused by dietary problems like a lack of calcium or too much phosphorus. It's harder to pin down in a large flock where only one bird displays the symptoms, although growing too fast can also cause it, as the bones of the legs aren't strong enough to support the quickly-increasing weight of the bird.
Last night, as I was cleaning the baby coop, I found one of our Buff Orpingtons lying in the shavings, not moving. I thought she might just be sleepy and reluctant. If you poke a chick with your hands, they'll wake up just fine and move themselves along, but this one wasn't going anywhere. The Pirate and I looked at her and the way she wasn't moving and said to each other "Does that look like spraddle to you?" Yeah. It did.
We picked her up and put her in a box with shavings and food and water, but she wasn't eating. She was so weak and pathetic that every time we reached into the box, she would nudge her way into our hands, plainly wanting to be held and comforted. She was cold, she was tired, and we felt warm.
We took her upstairs and I ended up giving her water through a syringe and food through a baby spoon (having to first reduce her regular feed to a fine powder and mix it with water). She perked up a little, and we woke up in the night to look at her, but by morning she was even weaker and plainly giving up the struggle. By the time I was dressed this morning, she had laid down under the food dish and wasn't moving.
The problem is that even if we could cure her (and the cure for spraddle requires a month of round-the-clock treatment and monitoring), she would never be as large or strong as the other hens, and could likely be killed anyway. The Pirate and I agreed that the right thing to do was cull her from the flock now, rather than letting her suffer for who knows how long.
She died quietly and peacefully, but the Pirate and Babd and I all cried over it at home, and I cried most of the way to work. It was raining as I left this morning, so the sky was crying too, and I felt cold and sad.
Being steward of other living things is really, really hard sometimes.
posted by Aoibheall | 9:29 AM
1 Comments:
Sounds like Ricketts to me. Agree with the end (no, too sick to read middles) P.S. 's nice prose
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