- Seperated Hen A from Hen B
- Researched Hen A's medical emergency like a chickenlovin' loony non-stop.
- Quarrantined Hen A into a cardboard box in laundry (much to my mother's chagrin).
- After discovering the fact Hen A has prolpase, researched remedies.
- Most effective remedy was... TO PUSH THE THING BACK IN.
- After registering the shock, prepared equipment for Hen A's 'surgery' alongside with sibling.
- Equipment included: 1 surgical mask, 1 pack of ear cleaning sticks, tea tree oil, white vinegar, apple cider, honey and disposable gloves.
- Prepared laundry sink for operation table by filling up halfway with lukewarm water. Added drops of tea tree oil, vinegar and apple cider.
- Cleaned Hen A's vent (butt area) up. SO GROSS AND SMELLY!
- After butt cleanage, sibling and Bravechickens (BC) started on second stage of 'surgery.' REMOVING THE MAGGOTS. This task was completed by yours truly. Using ear cleaning sticks, maggots were removed, one by one, hour by hour. Bravechickens' patience, labour and love for Hen A was of the utmost degree.
- Due to lack of hairdrying equipment, Hen A's vent was 'dehumidified' using a heater (in loungeroom).
- Vent didn't complety dry up, which turned out to be a good thing due to the advising of a good Samaritan from America.
- Remaining stray maggots were promptly removed.
- *drumroll* BC placed her finger/s onto prolpase and pushed the muscle back into Hen A's bottom.
This all happened between 12am and 5am. A sleep diprived teen had actually become transformed into a pseudo-surgeon, working on her patient until the wee hours of the night to save her beloved chicken.
Continuously, for the next three days or so, I kept Hen A on maintainence. This means that I gave Hen A just enough food to keep her alive. I also had to keep Hen A in a dark area, so the girl won't go on to produce babies (eggs). Oh, and I did continue to push the prolpase back in a few times a day. And then slather the thing in honey (and sugar a few times as well).
Sadly, due to the fact that chickens can be dumb, have a pecking order and forget their mates, Hen A had been kept indoors for 72 hours, thus forcing a tough love approach by myself to re-introduce her to Hen B. I'd read on a forum that a mysteriously named blue spray would prevent her from pecking her prolapsed booty. So I made one, out of water, blue food colouring and some cornflour. Did it work? Hell no.
FINALLY though, on the sixth day after Hen A's diagnosis of icky prolapse, a miracle occured. HEN A'S BOTTOM WAS PROLAPSE FREE! YAY!
How did I feel? I felt happy and grateful. I've had my sweet gals for three years now (four years this February). I'd say they're about 60 or 70 in human years. I love them to bits. They're smart and gorgeous and 110% lovable.
P.S: Ugh, I know this post is riddled with typos, but I cannot be bothered nor do I have the time. :(