We have a very sick chook. It’s so awful to see a beautiful, healthy bird scratching around one day and the next to see them swooning and unable to eat. Feeling helpless and desperate for our newly acquired friends I raced Robot off to the Vet. Yes, I took the chook to the vet.  I would like to justify my doing so with a number of arguments… 1. What else was I to do? Just let her die? 2. Why should only dogs and cats go to the vet?… Surely a chook is an equally valued member of the family… they certainly earn their keep (or hopefully will once they start laying!!!), 3. An excursion to a vet is a really interesting outing for two little boys, 4. Showing compassion and caring for any animal is an invaluable lesson for any child and 5. Because I wanted to know what she had and whether the other chooks… or us… where at risk (thankfully we’re find… no H5N1 here!).

So after an injection and a compassionate shrug from a vet who really held out little hope for the longeivity of our feathered friend, we went home…. to scout out burial plots.  BUT….. that was 5 days ago! Still she lives… just. I’ve been syringing antibiotics into her daily and pretty much have to hand feed her a homemade smoothie of apple sauce, banana and porridge (very popular!) every couple of hours. Unfortunately two days into her illness and need of antibiotics, we were planning a trip back to Manly to visit the old stomping ground… so, much to the bemusement of my lovely husband, the chook came to Manly with us! I’m now known affectionately (I believe) as the mad chook woman…. I just hope all this effort is worth it and poor little Robot pulls through.





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