Circe is one of the most beautiful chickens we have, and I realized as I was looking for a picture for this post that I do not have a single picture of her since she was a baby. She can’t stand me. For a long time, she couldn’t stand anyone–except her brother. She now has a few friends in the flock, mainly Pumpkin, but she still hates me.
Circe is named after the minor goddess in Greek mythology who makes a famed appearance in Homer’s Odyssey. I was reading Circe by Madeline Miller the year she was born, so we have a Circe and a Penelope. Both of them are strong-willed hens, but Circe acts like I am a monster. Maybe I am.
When Circe was little, she loved her brother more than her mother. I have never seen two chickens be so close as Circe and her brother. I kept praying Circe’s brother was a girl, but he was a he. We already had two roosters, so there was no way he could stay. I tried to find him a home but was unsuccessful. It was during the pandemic–EVERYBODY had gotten baby chicks, and EVERYBODY had too many roosters. I knew he was going to have to be food, but I was reluctant because of how close he was with Circe.
“It’s just like in the story,” I told Ron when he asked me about “that extra rooster.” “Her only friend is her brother, just like the real Circe,” I explained.
“The real Circe?” Ron asked.
“You know what I mean. If we take her brother from her, Circe is never going to be same.”
But take him we did, and Circe has hated me ever since. She doesn’t trust people, and you can’t blame her at all.
She keeps her distance from me most of the time. Of course, she comes for treats, but she’s in and out and never hangs around too long. That poor baby.
She is an extra poor baby right now because something is wrong with her. She is having a pretty hard molt, and last night, we heard her with full on rales in the coop. I am constantly terrified of the rales because of all of our trauma with the respiratory infection that hit our flock in 2019. Ron said he thought it might just be something in her throat. I hoped for that to be the case, but I had to isolate her just in case.
I got the dog crate ready for her and then swiped her from the roost last night. Oh, she fought me, and no matter how much I tried to help her feel better, she wasn’t having it.
I took her to the guest bathroom, which is also the animal hospital around our house, and while I was away getting a little olive oil and a syringe to put a little oil down her throat in case something was stuck, she went from the floor to the toilet to the sink and was trying to get on top of the light fixture above the sink.
I got her down with much ado and then had to give her the olive oil. I managed to get it in her. She was shocked at first and when she gathered herself, she leaned in and bit me so hard.
She is also very upset at having to stay in the crate. It’s a big crate with tons of room. but she is the closest thing to a wild chicken we have. None of this medical care is sitting well with her. I was devastated when I woke up this morning to find her still with some rales. They were quieter but still there.
I spent all morning while my son was in his college class looking for some way to get access to antibiotics without going to the vet because we really can’t afford a vet right now, and I know what she would need if it’s respiratory. I need the water soluble version of Tylan. I have all the natural remedies, but her rales were so bad last night that I was thinking we might need the big guns. Of course, no one wants to sell you an antibiotic without a prescription, and that’s understandable. I mean, people have run fast a loose with antibiotics for a long time, I suppose. I think I wouldn’t. I think I would be careful, but I’m sure everybody thinks that.
Thankfully, we may be in luck anyway because, when we got home from my son’s class, she didn’t have the rales–at least not very much. And, this afternoon, when I took her a snack, all was quiet. Maybe it was just something stuck in her throat. I hope so. I hope so.
I really need that little hen to get better, and as soon as she is, I am going to get a really good picture of her. Maybe, hopefully, through all of this, she will find a way to forgive me for my awfulness.
Maybe. Hopefully.
It always hurts so much more when an animal you care about hurts you 🙁
It definitely hurt my heart, but I also understood. I am so happy to report that she was all good this morning and was released “into the wild” as I joked with Ron. I took her crate to the chicken yard and opened her door. She flew out, flew over by the garden, and gave me some really hard looks. : )