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.

Friday morning, when I opened up the Big Barn, Ruby remained on the roost. Obviously something was amiss. She was hunched, tail down, and one eye was swollen shut.

The other eye was clear,

but when she blinked, Ruby looked the image of misery.

The other Gems were bright-eyed and energetic. So, I do what I always do when there is a sick hen, I isolated Ruby and observed. Her comb felt feverish to the touch. I cleaned her face off with a cold, wet washcloth so that I could have a better look at her eye. It was so swollen that at first it looked to me like it had been pecked. Perhaps this was an injury?

I got out the broad-spectrum antibiotics, trade name Duramycin, which is available here in the States over the counter at feed stores. It is not approved for layers, but everyone uses it off label. I’ll be writing an entire post later this week about it. I mixed up 2 cups of water with 1/16 teaspoon of the powdered medicine.

Because Ruby couldn’t see well enough to drink, and because I wanted to get the drugs in her right away, I dosed her with a syringe. I have directions and a YouTube video of how to do this here.

I had some Terramycin eye ointment leftover from an injury to Scooter’s eye. I’ve kept it in the fridge, and although it’s well past expiration date, it is still useful. (You can buy this online, but there’s currently a shortage.) I squeezed a bit into Ruby’s crusty eye.

Within two hours, Ruby’s eye was looking better, I could see that this wasn’t an injury, but rather that I had a respiratory infection to treat. I’ve seen this here before. Hens have died from it. I’m not going to put a name on the disease. Unless you send a blood sample to a lab, you cannot identify whether it is Mycoplasma, or something else. I’ve paid for the lab tests in the past (quite expensive!) and know this for a fact. Those on-line charts identifying one disease from another are not accurate. What I also know is that by the time the tests come back half of your flock can be dead. Also, regardless of the tests, the treatment is the same. If you’re lucky, it’s bacterial in nature and antibiotics will be effective.

Luckily for Ruby, by midday she was able to eat, and drink her Duramycin-laced water. It was hot, and she was feverish, so I put her into a wire pen for air flow.

By Sunday afternoon, Ruby’s comb no longer felt hot, her eyes looked clear, and she was ready to go back in with the flock.

I think that perhaps the onset of this was instigated by the bout with infectious bronchitis. Secondary bacterial infections are cited in the literature as a frequently occurring after iB. I’d hoped that since Ruby had what seemed the worst case of iB, as seen by her laying eggs that look like this:

that she’d be the only hen affected. Unfortunately, when I went into the barn this morning, four hens were standing in abject misery with their eyes closed. I’ve treated all of them, and now the entire flock in the Big Barn are on antibiotics. There’s no sign of disease yet in the Little Barn, but I am watching carefully. My family and I were going to go on a 3-day vacation today, but we will be staying home. I can’t leave the hens like this, and I can’t ask my petsitter, who also has chickens, to care for them and then expose her own flock to disease.

I’d be guessing, and likely guessing wrong, if I blamed this bout of disease entirely on iB, or on wild birds, or a friend’s bringing it in on her shoes. I’ve had chickens on this property now for ten years. Diseases lurk. This is why pastured poultry farmers have mobile tractors – fresh ground reduces the risk of disease. That’s not an option in backyards. My hens are in ideal conditions, and yet they still get sick. Have a flock for any length of time and this will likely happen on your property, too.

I’ll be posting more this week about how the chickens are doing. Two years ago I lost my favorite hen, Lulu, to a similar outbreak. I’m hoping that I’ve caught this in time. Opal is not looking good. But I’ll do my best.

Even a spacious chicken run will turn to dirt, and over time that will become so packed down that water can no longer drain through. I rake the manure and remove it from the pen weekly, but still, much gets worked into the ground, and eventually the surface of the run will become hardpan. For the chickens, it will be like scratching on concrete. An algae bloom appeared on mine, along with weeds that no one wanted to peck at.

When this happens, manure becomes a slick and nasty coating on the surface. There are few nice places to dust bathe. Simply put, it’s yucky.

We’ve been in the midst of a miserable heat wave, but I couldn’t bear seeing my flock in such conditions. So, at six in the morning last Friday, I got out my pitchfork. Owly was interested.

I dug. You can see how there was an impermeable layer at the surface.

Turning over the dirt exposed all sorts of interesting things for the chickens. Betsy led the way.

Soon everyone was investigating what was unearthed.

Bunnies are curious, and Phoebe liked having a different surface to hop on.

I bought 5 tubes of sand.

I mixed it a bit with the dirt and raked the surface smooth. The sand adds drainage.

The pullets immediately began to scratch in the soft surface, seemingly delighted that they could.

Buffy made the best use of the new loose soil. It was cool. It was comfortable. It was the perfect place to wait out the heat wave.

If only it was that easy for me to cool off! By the time I was done, I was hot, drenched with sweat, and streaked with dirt. A shower and an iced coffee revived me. All of the effort was worth it. The animals clearly said Thank You.