We promptly made a shelter from an old dog cage. When we first put her in I could tell she was devastated as she looked over at the others with absolute panic. She wanted to be with them even though they were abusing her. Sadly, it’s what she knows. It’s what she’s comfortable with. We put a tarp around her cage, so she couldn’t see them, and she finally settled down. Quickly, she grasped how good life was for her in her new home, mainly because she had endless, uninterrupted access to the food and water. A few days passed, but she never laid an egg.
Then the rains came and we had to scurry to fix her shelter. Standing out in the cold rain, trying to make a proper home for this sick bird, I couldn’t help but ask myself if we were making too much of this. The farmers around here would just put her down; after all, she wasn’t even producing eggs anymore. But my husband and I have not really taken to this rough and tumble approach.
Though I had my doubts, and the endless rain put more stress on the situation, I am very proud to report that she laid her first egg two days ago and another yesterday. Her comb looks pinker too. Now we’re on to the next challenge: having her hold her own when we put her back in the hen house. This should be interesting. I hope those mean girls prove me wrong and show a little compassion. Am I asking too much from animals with brains the size of a peanut?