Front Porch: Miss Chicken nursed back to health

Miss Chicken is still alive … and thriving.

I am so happy to be writing these words because for the past couple of months, I thought the next words I’d be sharing about this former feral chicken would be the last ones. Our gal had been ailing, but she’s had a wonderful – and unexpected – recovery. Whew … for now.

A very young Miss Chicken arrived in our driveway one wintry day in 2009 and hung out in the neighborhood for a year, accepting feed from us and a neighbor, but she was skittish and pretty much not catchable. The winter didn’t kill her, nor did the coyotes who wandered by. She had a strong survival instinct, which has come in handy.

We finally did corral her before the onset of the second winter, and she was relocated to my friend Joan’s home for unwanted and injured chickens in Spokane Valley. There she’s thrived under Joan’s care, though remaining standoffish until the past year.

Since it was an open adoption, I’ve visited and been writing semi-annual updates on Miss C and her flock mates ever since, chronicling their adventures and life in the hen house, including watching her go from the baby in the group to now the eldest resident in the flock of 18.

Large chickens – and she is certainly one of those – usually live about eight years, according to Joan, so we knew that her days with us are probably not long now. And then in mid-January Miss Chicken appeared to be losing her balance and was staggering. Joan wondered if she had suffered a stroke and took her to the vet, who thought our gal might have a neurological tumor.

A course of prednisone was prescribed, and some improvement was seen, but she couldn’t get herself on the roost and her neck was torqued to the left. Joan, who is always kind and careful with her chickens, started keeping her warm in a pet carrier, which she brought in to her own bedroom at night, and began feeding her a special diet. In the daytime, she’d stay in a hutch in the chicken house so she could have the companionship of her flock.

If people do come back to earth in another form, I want to return as a chicken and live with Joan.

Progress was so-so, necessitating another trip to the vet, who began to think that she might have suffered a trauma of some sort.

“She walked like a drunk, stronger on one leg than the other and tried to scratch with just one leg,” Joan said. But she never lost her appetite, which was encouraging for Joan.

Joan has been able to cut back the prednisone dosage, and our feathered friend has slowly been getting better. She has reclaimed her spot on the far left of the top roost, and pity the poor chicken who crowds her. She scratches in good order, meaning with both legs. Her neck has straightened out, and, as Joan and I not long ago sat under an apple tree out where the chickens range free, I could observe that her gait looks very chickenlike once again.

The veterinarian suggested blood tests to evaluate how her internal organs are working. Joan remarked that our former wild chicken, who used to peck Joan pretty much any time she had the opportunity, has mellowed so much to the human touch than when the procedure took place she just lay placidly on her back while her wing was laid out and blood withdrawn from a vessel under the wing.

“I think animals know when you are trying to help them,” Joan said.

I had thought about writing earlier about Miss Chicken’s illness and experiences this year, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. If there was bad news coming, I wanted to handle it all at once.

We’re waiting for news about the blood test, but we are glad to see that she’s had a reprieve and has recovered from whatever it was that ailed her this year. We know that one of these days things will be different, but, for now, she’s out enjoying the sunshine with her pals, singing contentedly after Joan gives her medication and dusts and scratches just like she did when she was young.

Miss Chicken is back!