Just A Chicken

Tuesday, June 11, 2024

The header shows me and “Wellsummer,” my 15-year-old house hen. In this photograph, her eye has a visible cataract; each eye is cataracted in person. She has trouble spotting food and water, and can’t estimate how far a leap to the ground from her low perch (usually I lift her off).

A domestic chicken that reaches the age of 15 is very old, and Wellsummer is an amazing bird. She’s reasonably healthy physically but being “done in” by failing eyesight that inhibits food and water intake.

The header photo shows her on my lap. She has a towel around her to help me control her wings while teaching her to accept food and water from syringes. She objects and makes surprisingly strong efforts to escape.

My goal is to control her enough so that my forefinger can rest on her beak and open for a syringe to drop bits of food or water. We’ve been practicing for days, and so far, she is managing to keep my arm and hand too busy to control her head adequately.

When Wellsummer was two days old, she became mine for fifty cents. I rescued her from a sick tank in a business then called Big R and created a setup in my living room to help her grow strong. She did and joined my first flock, finally becoming that group’s lone survivor. I brought some infant chickens home about three years ago and transferred Wellsummer to my house.

I have been fond of this hen since our early days together. All along, she’s remained in amazingly good health. The cataracts are a bummer, preventing her from eating and drinking adequately and hopping off a low perch.

I won’t give up on this project with her. Eventually, we will learn the business of syringe-giving and -receiving. Meanwhile, she must be consuming adequate solid nutrients and liquids independently to maintain her strength and interest in life. I don’t want Wellsummer to give up, either.

Dear Friends: “Just a chicken;” a label that masks rich, intelligent beings. Diana