This morning Opal was no longer standing hunched in a corner. She was out and about with the flock.

Her eyes were open enough that she could see her way to the font and have a drink of medicated water, which means I won’t have to dose her today – a relief for both of us. What’s odd about this disease is that one side of the head is more affected than the other. The first day, when perhaps only one hen is stricken, you’ll find her with one eye clear, but the other shut. It does at first appear to be an eye injury, or perhaps a wasp sting? But at the end of 24 hours, listen, and you’ll hear mucus-clogged breathing. Some hens in your flock might not be affected at all, and some, get hit hard and like Opal, will die within a day if not attended to. Fortunately for my flock, the symptoms burst on the scene just hours before I left on vacation. If I’d gone, there would be four or five dead hens right now. But, luck was with them. My plans were flexible. I could stay home and care for my chickens. Still, it was touch and go for Opal, which is why this morning I was so very pleased to see that she was able to open both eyes to stride outside with the flock. She’s definitely on the way to recovery. But my work is not entirely done. Her left eye doesn’t stay open for long. I squirted another bit of terramycin on it. Onyx’s eye, too, needed some care.

But, that’s no big deal. I thought that I might lose one or two, or more, hens to this outbreak, and they will all recover. And so far, despite it being extremely contagious, the pullets are fine. What a relief.

I’m doing research into when, after being medicated with antibiotics, that their eggs will be safe to eat. It’s taking some time and sleuthing, but I’ve found some research and science-based guidelines. Stay tuned for that post.

Last night when I closed up the barn, I was cautiously optimistic that the birds were out of imminent danger. That afternoon I’d been able to feed the two with the most severe symptoms, Amber and Florence, some scrambled egg (feeding back the eggs I’d otherwise have to throw out.) (Notice the jealous healthy hens on the other side of screen door.)

But, despite my attempts, Opal was too sick to eat. I gave the hens that were still lethargic and with mucous-veiled eyes another dose of antibiotics. I use this. Getting a teaspoon of liquid laced with antibiotics into a hen that isn’t strong enough to drink on her own is enough to make a difference.

This morning, when I went out to the Big Barn, I breathed a sigh of relief. Amber, who stood in misery with her eyes squeezed shut yesterday, was clear-eyed and quickly hurried away from me. (I’m now that awful person who pries open her mouth and squirts in water. She doesn’t seem to remember the delicious egg.)

Both Rhode Island Reds looked normal and were eating with gusto. Ruby, here seen in the front, was the first to get sick and appears to be fully recovered.

Onyx still has a gummy eye, but is otherwise on the upswing. Florence is also much improved. Only Opal continues to struggle. She stands in the corner, which is a protective pose that a hen will intuitively take when ill.

None of the Gems are bothering her. They are a peaceful flock. But yesterday I saw Siouxsie try to bully Opal. Siouxsie snaked out her neck once and pecked at Opal. Right away, Jasper went for Siouxsie and put a stop to it. The Gems don’t put up with bad behavior. What a great flock this is! Usually I’m drawn to individuals, but in the case of the Gems it’s how they function as a whole that impresses me. I’m so relieved that this illness isn’t go to decimate this group.

I’m still babying Opal along. She’s beginning to open her eyes. I’m going to go scramble her an egg.

The respiratory disease that started with Ruby has spread to five other hens: Opal, Garnet, Onyx, Florence and Amber. Garnet came down with a fairly mild case, and rebounded after a half day on antibiotics. Onyx, so far, has also had a comparatively easy time of it. She is broody, and only one eye is affected. She’s drinking, but since she’s not coming out of her nesting box, I dosed her, too. Opal has it the worst. Her eyes are sealed shut, and she spent all day yesterday standing in the corner of the pen. She cannot see well enough to drink her medication or eat. I’ve been dosing her with antibiotics mixed with water, and have treated her eyes, but after a full day of that, she showed no sign of improvement. Honestly, I didn’t think she’d make it through the night, but she did.

Florence is the only one of the Speckled Sussexes that is sick. It does appear as if some hens are immune. Edwina and Siouxise, both exposed to something similar two years ago, are fine. But why only Florence, of three hens the same age, breed and background is affected, I’ve no clue. There she is in the middle, eyes closed, listening but not able to see or eat.

Florence is severely skinny. Her keel bone juts out. The other sick hens are also much lighter than they should be. It makes me wonder whether, if at the beginning of the illness, before I saw the signs, that the hens had already stopped eating. I dosed Florence and treated that shut eye with terramycin ointment. Having both eyes open is essential, as a hen can’t find her food with only one working eye. More on that tomorrow!

Amber is also sick. She stands hunched and miserable. I treated her as well.

Despite their lethargy and obvious discomfort, none of the hens like having their heads held and their beaks opened and liquid squirted into their mouths. Amber put up the worst fuss, with head thrashing and kicking and pathetic gurgling from the congestion in her sinuses. I did it anyway, which, despite all of the hen’s histrionics, was the right thing to do. They’re all improving. Except for Opal. But, she’s not dead yet. Chickens have an amazing ability to heal. She just might pull through.

Meanwhile, there’s no sign of respiratory disease in the Little Barn. As soon as I realized that this ailment was not limited to Ruby, I immediately instituted biosecurity. The germs could travel to the young flock on my shoes (especially in manure on the soles) and on my clothes. My son is now the delegated caregiver for the Little Barn. He wears clothes and shoes that do not carry germs from the Big Barn.He’s not allowed into the Big Barn, not even to pet the goats.  I don’t go into the pen or inside the enclosure with the healthy flock. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that this will safeguard their health and that the young girls will stay free from disease.

There’s a new book out titled Chickens in Five Minutes A Day. There are days like that. Sometimes. But the book never mentions the other days, like the one I’ve had here. You have to be willing to do the days that take fifty minutes. Once in awhile, the days run to five hundred minutes. When you commit to having animals in your care, that’s the way it is.