Chicken Pox

If you don't get Chicken Pox from chickens, why does one of my chickens have it? For whatever reason they call Chicken Pox, Chicken Pox, there's nothing left to call what my chicken is suffering from than Foul Pox. 

I found her teetering in front of the waterer this morning. I picked her up and saw that her beak was caked and bloody with a warty-looking swelling on it, as well as her comb. I whisked her into the bathroom to clean what I thought were wounds and found that her feet and legs had scabs on them. And on the back of her head, I can barely describe. It looked like she had a small rock stuck in the middle of a tumor. I cleaned her up and tried to soften the lesions with warm water and vitamin E oil, but no result.

I called the hatchery and they had no idea what I was describing. I called the vet and they also didn't know, but said I could bring her in on Saturday. "I don't think she'll make it that long." They told me to refrigerate her if she dies and they can run tests and see if it's contagious and take precautions to protect the rest of the flock.

I got on (I LOVE) the internet and tried to Google for a clue. "chicken tumor," "chicken lesions," "chicken diseases," etc. until I found mention of the pox. Google images confirmed that my little chicken has Fowl Pox. There's nothing to be done about it once the chicken has it and in most cases they eventually get better. Unless the Pox has spread to their mouth and throat, making it difficult for them to breath and eat. My chicken is wheezing and won't swallow the yummy yummy special food I made for her, so she's most likely doomed.

Meet Joe Pesci

This little guy, the smallest of the lot, spends all of his time lunging at the other chicks, pecking at their faces and focuses the lionshare of his aggression on Wallace the duck. Someone pooped on his head, so I considered naming him Shithead, but changed my mind after watching him struggle for a couple minutes trying to rip his own wing off. Unhinged, this one is. 

Spring Chickens

The chickens arrived today. 

The phone rang at 6:30 this morning and I knew it was the post office calling to tell me the chicks arrived and are ready to be picked up. I went back to sleep and dreamt of chickens for another couple hours.

Other customers at the post office were amazed that chickens get sent through the mail. I thought I lived in farm country out here and everyone would know that already.

I put the chicks in a cow trough in my laundry room, replete with newspaper & wood chips floor, two, count 'em TWO feeders, a waterer full of electrolyte juice and a toasty heat lamp. 

Wallace watched from his transparent rubbermaid penthouse on top of the dryer as I put each chick in the trough and dipped their beaks in the water. By the time I had put the 30th chick in, Wallace was having a shitfit, quacking and banging up against his penthouse wall, so I put him in with the chicks expecting all of them to gang up on him.

The chicks pecked at Wallace and he pecked back but it didn't take to long for them to get used to each other.

I could watch the chicks for hours. I love it when they fall asleep on their feet. I love it when they suddenly dart across the trough. I love it when they poop and make that "splut" noise like the sound that comes out of the ketchup bottle when you're squeezing out the last bit...