One Small Casualty

I lost one of my baby chicks yesterday.

Nice to say it that way, like they just wandered off.  I suppose they did, but not in body, just spirit.

When chicks are this young, just starting to fledge out, they are particularly adorable.  They start individuating and you can tell them apart easier.  No mean feat when there are 26 of them, all the same breed.

When I went out yesterday morning to check on the bebbes, there was one laying down with their wings spread out from their body.  Sometimes they just do that, stretch their lengthening limbs, but this was different.  Another chick was standing on one of their wings and there was no complaint.

I grabbed up the sick one, and took them in the house, put them in a box with a lot of towels and some of my fuzziest socks to keep them warm.  Found the dropper and filled it with water.  They wouldn’t drink.  They seemed to be hiccuping or such, little peeps coming with each breath.  I put some sugar in the water (and have since found out that might have exacerbated the problem if it was a digestive issue) and they drank it then.  I tried to check on what it might be and the symptoms fit no particular profile.  Most likely they’d gotten some long strand of something into their system.  Maybe a piece of straw, or a hair.

It’s always hard to decide what to do when a little one is ill.  I’m not a vet goer with my working animals.  Sounds a bit callous I guess, but I don’t want to pay $50 to possibly fix a $3 chick.  But I will use many of my own resources to try to get them well.

So I spent the day yesterday massaging their little crop (they place where their food is stored) in case it was impacted and giving them as much water as they would drink.  I took them on my necessary errands and took care of them as best I could.

As the day went on, they got worse.  I was about an hour from home.  They would still drink a little water so I thought they might hang on a bit, but it became clear they were in pain.  I was hoping it would be okay to head to the Holler and catch my husband there.  He’s more sturdy when it comes to mercy-killing.   When I stopped to get gas and check on them, they’d passed on.  Died.  Abandoned the mortal coil.  I lost them.

And I still don’t know what was/is the “right thing” to do.  What’s the deal with trying to heal an animal so you can kill it later, when it’s big enough to eat?  I don’t have a good answer.  All I got is what I thought was most helpful at the time.

And no clever ending to this post.

I pray thee, little one,

return to whence you came,

may your molecules be freed from this form,

may all the joy in the universe abide in your journey

toward the next blessed shape~