Yes. Chicken coryza. It could almost sound appealing, maybe even delicious--think chicken cacciatore, chicken divan, chicken kiev. Unfortunately, it's nothing like any of those. It's a nasty infection caused by Haemophilus paragallinarum.
Yesterday was the official start date in the building of our new coop, the Garden Ark. However, just as I headed out I noticed that one of the girls (as we hopefully refer to them) had a closed eye. I quickly dispensed with the notion that she was just being coy and upon closer inspection noticed some clear goo and some swelling. My differential--infection or trauma. I was again off to the all knowing GOOGLE. Coryza sounded like the most likely culprit, although--thankfully--there was no nasty odor, as many of the sites described. After a few calls to the vet, to the exotic animals clinic (yes, apparently, chickens are exotic?!?!), and to local feed stores, I was off to purchase some antibiotics.
Most of the reputable sites recommended isolation, so I built a small house of quarantine from a bucket and some paper towels. She was not happy to be away from her brethren, and she protested loudly. She also defiantly escaped from my many attempts at creating a secure environment, and I ultimately resorted to cutting some garden cloth from our coop supplies and placing it on top, weighting it with a small stone to keep it in place. I felt I was back at work as I calculated the dosage of sulfamethazine for our infirmed feathered family member. Using a tiny syringe I coaxed 0.06 mL (that's 8mg to you and me) down her throat. She took it like a champ. For good measure I added a recommended amount of the Sulmet to the water dish of her still healthy compadres--so much for naturally raised hens! I was off to build...
The weather was beautiful, and getting back to some building and manual labor was refreshing. A few hours into the project I headed inside for a cold drink. What did I find?...our ailing avian had flown the coop. Or rather the hospital. There she was, happy as a clam sitting atop the rock I had placed on the garden cloth. She looked at me calmly in that one-eye-head-cocked kind of way that birds do. With a stern face I reached out my hand, and she moved onto my sawdust covered palm. After a firm talking-to (one musn't be soft even with children) back in she went, and I addressed any further potential escape routes. If medicine doesn't work out, maybe I'll look for a job in prison design.
Gabriel returned from work, and we labored until dark assmbling our Ark.
I am happy to report that the chicks are doing well today, and Rose is on the mend. Her eye is open, the swelling is better, and she seems in good spirits. She got her second dose of medicine today, and I am anticipating a return to the flock tomorrow.
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