Yesterday morning, when the other hens got busy with their days, Jasper stayed on the roost. Something was wrong.

 

I went outside to check on her. She was in a nesting box between the two broodies.

 

I set her down in the barn to see what I could see. It was obvious that she was in distress because her vent was distended and pulsing.

 

I was there at the right time. Jasper pushed out some clear fluid – egg white? Then this got stuck:

 

I gently helped her by pulling it out. A soft shell. Chickens will eat this, so I was fortunate to see it. It gives me a good clue as to what is wrong with Jasper.

 

Soft shelled eggs are not easy to lay. Sometimes they break inside of the hen, and even if they don’t, the hen isn’t designed to expel the equivalent of a rough deflated balloon. Sometime the hen can’t push it out, the shell stays inside of her, forms a mass and blocks the tract. In the worst case scenario it becomes infected, the reproductive tract breaks, solidifies around the shell, and then gets pushed out in the form of lash. Meanwhile, yolks continue to form, dropping into the body cavity, and becoming infected. The hen eventually dies.

Jasper is in her fourth year of lay. Egg-making glitches are not a surprise. There’s only so much that I can do. The hens have a good diet, with plenty of Manna Pro Crushed Oyster Shell Calcium Supplement For Laying Chickens - Poultry Treat - 5 lbs. for shell production. However, as a hen ages, she sometimes loses the ability to process essential minerals. That might be Jasper’s situation. Of concern to me is that she expelled a white and a shell, but no yolk. Where did that go? Perhaps she’s no longer making yolks, and this egg was the last that she’ll produce and there won’t be any more problems. Or, perhaps that yolk is no longer getting into the reproductive tract, but is dropping into her body cavity. In that case, she’s an internal layer, which will eventually kill her. I just don’t know.

What I do know is that I can give Jasper some relief right now with my Spa Treatment. I want to make sure that her reproductive and digestive tracts are cleared out of any blockages. I fed her some bread soaked in a tablespoon of olive oil. Note that Jasper is alert and hungry. That’s a good sign.

 

I soaked her in a warm

 bath for 10 minutes. She didn’t like that as much as the bread, but she stayed put.

 

Then I put her back with her flock. Once she pushed out that soft shell, she was once again her active self. Being separated from her flock would have stressed her. Besides, fresh air and exercise helps to move things along.

Twenty-four hours later, Jasper looked absolutely fine.

 

Time will tell if this was a one-off problem or a fatal glitch. In the meanwhile, I’m hoping that she’ll stop laying and go into an  early molt. Not only does she need a break from laying, but this hen goes up to others and asks them to peck at her feathers! It’s time for her to get a new coat.

The water feature in my backyard has two areas. There’s the “pond” where the fish live, which is about three feet at its deepest point. That’s the home of the Beast and her minions. On the backside of the big rock is gravel, also three feet deep. The water is pumped through these rocks; it mimics a natural filtration system. That’s one reason why the pond water is so clear. Another reason is that the fish eat algae.

 

 

Water celery also helps to filter the pond. But, too much of it is detrimental. As the roots form thick masses, detritus collects. The goats help to keep down the growth.

 

 

They are enthusiastic workers.

 

 

But even two goats aren’t a match for water celery. Full, they head back to the barn to chew their cuds.

 

 

That’s okay with the other creatures that live in the shallows.

Warning – graphic photo. (I put these up because my readers have told me they’re valuable. I’m sorry that they are difficult to look at.)

It was clear that Opal wasn’t going to recover, and that her time was up. Opal was a Delaware, an old-fashioned meat breed,which is a heavy placid hen, so, when I could see her keel bone projecting from a concave chest, I knew that despite the fact that she was still eating, that she was starving. Whatever was wrong was keeping her from processing her food.

Here is Opal as a three-year old.

 

I didn’t want her to suffer. Steve euthanized her. (He did a quick break of the neck.) Then I did the necropsy. I’d expected to find all sorts of things wrong with her reproductive tract. This is a hen that has had Infectious bronchitis, which causes eggs to be wrinkled and weak. I’d expected to see internal laying, or infection. Or tumors. I didn’t. Opal’s ovary was intact, but not functioning – no yolks were forming. What I did see was that her reproductive tract had broken, and that some of it had formed a ball of “lash.” (This is a white mass made up of the tract and sometimes bits of egg.) But, that’s not what she died of. She died of a severely diseased liver.

In the photo you can see how elongated and mottled it is, with dark splotches of hemorrhaging. I don’t have a lab and I’m not a veterinarian. So, I can tell you that this organ was obviously compromised, but not why. I’ve sent the photo off to a vet to look at. If you know what is going on here, please let me know. No wonder the poor bird was becoming emaciated. This is not a functioning organ. This is why I don’t encourage people to baby their sick hens by feeding gruel, etc. If your hen isn’t thriving, then it’s likely that the underlying cause is something so serious that keeping the hen alive by such measures only prolongs suffering.  In an effort to keep content on the HenCam current, I often rework my FAQs. With Opal in mind, I have just rewritten the My Chicken Looks Sick! Now What? post. Do share.

 

The rest of Opal was healthy except… this is only the second hen that I’ve found roundworms in, and they were numerous. The other hen was also an older hen that had gone through a slow decline. I’m convinced that it’s the stressed hens that have issues with internal parasites. I’ve looked carefully at the manure in the barn. I don’t think that my healthy hens are infected, but I’ll be especially careful about removing manure to keep the parasite load low in the barn.

The flock of Gems is now down to nine. Opal’s leaving did not cause even a ripple in the social order. Everyone looks healthy, and despite the heat and humidity they’re laying (the ones that aren’t broody!) Hopefully there won’t be anymore serious issues this summer. But, they’re older chickens. You never know. I’m fine with that.

Not quite two years ago, when I went looking for a horse to buy, I didn’t think that I’d do much more than easy trail rides. I have various physical issues, and was happy to be able to sit on a horse at all. I wanted a horse with a kind eye and a sane mind. I found Tonka.  But, if you know me at all, you know that at the heart of my relationships with my animals is communication, and the way that I do that is through training. In my world, training isn’t about dominance, nor teaching a repetoir of tricks. Rather, training opens up a clear dialog so that I can listen to my animals and they can listen to me. That’s especially true with a horse.

It turned out that my body could handle more than I thought, and that Tonka is much more than a trail horse. I’ve been a dressage rider for most of my life. Dressage is all about the gradual, systematic athletic training of the horse so that mount and rider become in sync and can perform intricate movements in concert. That’s the way it should be done. Too often the rider is tense and harsh. and the horse is stressed and miserable – I’ve vowed to avoid that trap. I’m in no rush with Tonka, and don’t want to get up to the upper levels of the sport. I’m focusing on giving him aids that he understands and wants to respond to. We’re both getting fitter so that we can do the movements in a fluid way. So far, so good. At our first recognized show we placed second in our class.

 

Done right, and there’s a sense of accomplishment by the rider and the horse. Here, my instructor, Kim Litwinczak, is telling Tonka what a brilliant boy he is. He knows.

 

One of the the challenges with dressage is that you have to do many repetitions of the exercises both in order to get it right and to build muscles, which is good for the body but not so good for the mind. So, when I heard about something called Versatility Challenge, I decided to try it. It would be different. I hoped it would be fun.

A Versatility Challenge is like a trail class on steroids. The organizers come up with things to walk over, though, and interact with. I knew we were going to be doing obstacles that Tonka had never seen, let alone trained on. But, Tonka is level-headed and trusting, and I’ve trained both verbal and physical cues that he listens to. I strapped on my treat bag and off we went.

The first challenge we entered had a bar that we had to lift, walk under and replace. That baby pool in the back? It had tennis balls in it. Tonka walked through it. Tonka did everything! He questioned my sanity a couple of times, but I asked him to go forward and when he did, I reached down and fed him a peppermint. What fun!

 

The second challenge that we entered allowed participants to do a walk-through first, which was a good thing, because Tonka had to push a ball. More peppermints!

 

Then we did it mounted. We haven’t quite figured out how to push the ball straight ahead. Points off. Oh well!

 

There was also a turnstile

 

and cavelettis spaced too tight for Tonka’s trot stride. Tonka had to pick up his hocks.

 

Doing the course was a good mental challenge for both of us, although I think that what Tonka enjoyed the most was getting out and watching something new.

 

Have you tried anything new lately?

I’ve been keeping an eye on Opal. I’ve been watching her slow demise. This is the part of the story that all of the everyone should have chickens in their backyard boosters don’t talk about. The truth is that chicken keeping is not easy.

Opal is a Delaware hen. The Delaware is a breed developed in the 1940s for meat. This was right before the cornish cross was invented, a hybrid which has forever changed the chicken industry because of it’s fast growth and rate of feed conversion into meat. Once that Cornish cross appeared, the Delaware was relegated to the a pretty hen to have in your home flock category. Opal was one of a batch of chicks that I purchased from a mail order hatchery four years ago. She’s been a pleasant member of the flock. But she’s had her health issues.

Opal, for whatever reason, contracted infectious bronchitis. She’s the only one of my hens which showed the symptoms – the telltale sign being wrinkled eggs. She survived that bout. But, those compromised eggs have caused laying issues. I don’t think that the eggs slide out easily like perfectly formed ones. Back in March she looked to be on death’s door, but the Spa Treatment brought her back enough to return her to the Gems and resume a normal life. However, knowing that the underlying cause hasn’t gone away, I didn’t think that she’d last the year, and my concern has been confirmed with signs – a paler comb, a reduced energy level, a cessation of laying and a messy bottom.

Despite that, in June Opal was enjoying outings on the lawn.

 

Look closely, though, and you’ll notice that her comb has gone whitish near the back. I’ve monitored the change in the comb as it shrinks and greys. I’m not going to try the Spa Treatment again. I know that what is going on inside of her cannot be cured. It does her a disservice to prolong whatever terminal ailment she has. So, I’ve watched and waited, and so far Opal’s quality of life has been good. She’s been eating, drinking, roosting and interacting with her flock.

But not today.

She’s on the outside roost. Looks okay from a distance.

 

 

Up close, though, there’s the sleepy eye. The ashen comb. The tucked in stance and drooped feathers.

 

 

Opal is done.

 

Chickens have a remarkable ability to stay alive despite being very, very sick. That’s the point at which Opal is now. I honestly don’t know how she processes pain at this stage in her life. Chickens don’t express suffering in ways that a human can relate to. But, I do know, that when a hen looks like this, that  trying to keep them going by drenches and soaks and drugs does nothing but prolong whatever discomfort she is experiencing. At this point, the less that I do, the better. The other hens are leaving Opal alone so isolating her from the flock would do her no good, and would stress her. I’m hoping that Opal will pass peacefully in her sleep in the next day. If she doesn’t, I won’t let her starve to death and will euthanize her.

This is the reality of backyard chicken keeping. Animals under your care will die. Chickens have short lives. They’ll die sooner than you think. For those of you with only three or four hens, this can feel devastating. Even for someone like me who has a dozen hens and has kept a flock for twenty years, the loss of a bird is difficult. But, it helps to accept your limits as a caregiver. It helps to recognize that within the world of backyard hens, that this is normal. It helps that I know that I have given my animals the best care possible, so that while they’re here, they have a good life. And then it helps to let go and move on.