Everything comes down to poo.

(If you don’t get the title of this post, and you’re twelve at heart, you really owe it to yourself to spend two and half minutes watching this.)

Doctor Chickeneer is still on two cases, gentle reader; red alert has not yet been canceled. The two patients are Little Black Copper Marans, the last of the preemies, and Splash, the first of the preemies.

LBCM is doing well, or was. His ankle braces are off, and his feet seem to have straightened out. I gave his little bum a bath this morning, though, and he has seemed rough ever since. That’s me: always overdoing things. He is resting under the Brinsea on a folded facecloth, panting. Fingers crossed I haven’t committed a mortal crime.

(NOTE: I am sick of playing the gender pronoun game. Can we please just all agree that I know absolutely nothing about the genders of 3.0, and I will assign them each one as I write, simply as a matter of convenience for both you and me? Thank you.)

Splash is a much more complex story. It comes to this: Splash had a very nasty butt. It was swollen and goopy and stinky and discoloured. Things were bad. I could show you pictures, but I won’t. You’re welcome.

I was even advised by A Very Wise Hatcher to cull, and maybe I should have, but he was walking and peeping and eating, and I couldn’t see doing it just yet.

Yesterday, I was giving him his thrice daily butt bath, when I was inspired to press gently on his distended abdomen, between the vent and the umbilicus. WELL. Imagine my shock and surprise when about three days’ worth of poo came out, the first solid thing I’d seen to exit Splash’s vent. I just kept going until there wasn’t anything left. He had a very difficult time regaining his balance when I put him back in the brooder, no doubt because he’d been compensating for three days.

Grossed out yet? Don’t be.

This is good news. Splash had a nasty case of pasty butt very early on, and I bathed and removed the hardened obstruction, feeling I had returned his digestive process to normal. I had not. It seems that he was pasted inside, as well. All that had been able to exit his body was a caustic liquid, reddening his tiny hiney. The releasing of all that solid waste, and the opening of the passage, was either the beginning of the end, or the beginning of the beginning. Nothing to do but wait.

Splash is still with us today, and considerably perkier. He is grooming, eating, drinking, and getting out from under the Brinsea much more. He had another warm butt bath this morning, and I expelled a bit more poo. It is vital he poop on his own, yes, but I felt it was even more important that the overstretched “bowel” be allowed to return to its normal size.

And, five minutes ago…he pooped. On his own. It was small, and he had to work for it, but he did it.

I’m so proud.


5 thoughts on “Everything comes down to poo.

  1. Oh tender heart tugs of the tiny helpless chicks, so wonderful to see them actively zooming around, so heartwrenching when they arent! Im dealing with a cochin chick with a broken hock, sigh, shes active, eats, but will her leg heal? Her hatchmate is strong, a joy, but one chick alone? They were a gift from a well meaning friend, she came broken, its hard to give up on her! Im hoping for the best for your babies! Try a little diluted yogurt or probiotics and bird electrolytes/vitamins!

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