Goldie 3

If I was superstitious, I would insist that the kids refrain from naming any more chickens "Goldie". Goldie #1 was given to us the first year we lived on the farm. Not long after we got her, she came down with some sort of mysterious illness (I suspect something like botulism) and died. Goldie #2 was nabbed by a fox. Goldie 3 is faring no better.

Thursday morning, the kids and I were quietly minding our own businesses when a ruckus was raised by some of our chickens outside. Finley and Joe dashed out the front door of the trailer. I peeked out a window in the kitchen as I made my way to the door, and caught glimpse of a pile of feathers. This wasn't going to be good.

I ran out the front door and into the yard. There were my kids, crying, with a look of terror plastered on their faces, and at the same instant, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a dog running at me from beneath the trailer. I turned and kicked it as it jumped. And in the next couple seconds, as I watched the dog stumble, then run around a little, I realized this wasn't some vicious, crazy dog. It was a happy, excited dog that desperately wanted some food, love, and attention. Thankfully, the dog wasn't very big and I was able to grab him and restrain him by the scruff of his neck.

It took a few minutes for the fear to melt out of the kids, and a little longer for the tears of grief to subside. We had discovered that Luke Skywalker, Zivah's pet chicken, had suffered a serious wound on her haunch, and it would be necessary to put her down. Joe and Finley were terribly worried that Zivah would take the news badly (more crying on their part), but when I broke the news to Zivah, she said, "It's okay. I still have Fluffy-Head." [Side note: This from the girl who cried for an hour the day before because I wouldn't let her have a pocket knife that she couldn't close. An hour. I am not going to try not to worry about her just yet.]

Initially, we thought Goldie had been killed and taken away by the other stray dog that we kept seeing hanging around Queenie's pasture. [We later caught the other dog, and our neighbor took them both to the shelter the next morning.] But several hours later, she reappeared with a de-feathered and bloody rear-end.

I had already had to kill one pet chicken that day, and really didn't want to have to put another one down, so we decided to give her a day or two to see if she might have a chance of survival. Our neighbor gave us some Blu-Kote antiseptic, and we sprayed her down with it, and put her in a cage in the stable with fresh water and food.

By Saturday, she was keeping one eye closed, and I was afraid she might be going down-hill, but on Sunday, she seemed a little perkier. She was eating and drinking (and pooping) just fine. But then I noticed something: maggots. The Blu-Kote didn't seem to affect them at all. I did a little research, remebering that maggots are sometimes used in medicine clean wounds. Maybe some maggots weren't so bad! But after reading some articles by wildlife rehabilitators, it became obvious that they couldn't just be left unchecked.

I quite honestly don't have the time or the stomach to sit and pick maggots out of a chicken's butt, but, nevertheless, thought I'd give her one more chance. I had to bribe Finley to help me. I got Goldie out of her cage and, while I held her, had Finley try to spray the maggots off with a nozzle on the garden hose. This didn't work, and in one last-ditch effort, we doused Goldie 3's heinie with some Gibson's antiseptic. I had used this on the calves when we castrated them to keep the area clean and fly-free. I put Goldie back in the cage, thinking that this probably wouldn't work, and I would have to put her out of her misery soon.

As the kids were getting ready for school this morning, I told them that Goldie would be gone when they got home. After dropping them off to school, I ate my breakfast, and tried to work up the nerve to get it done. I decided it would be best to dig the hole first. I planned bury her back behind the stable, so after grabbing the shovel, stopped in to check on her before I dug the hole. A quick inspection of her tail, and to my surprise, the maggots were gone.

So Goldie 3 lives on for now. If you are the praying sort, say one for her. She could use it.