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Hen in the sunshine

It was fine and hot today, and Maggie got to sit in the sunshine and peck bugs out of the grass. Which, for a chicken, is heaven.

If you’re just joining us, Maggie is my crippled chicken. A fox turned up and panicked the flock last September. We think. They were safely locked up, but we came home to find agitated chooks, feathers everywhere and I think Maggie banged her spine somehow.

Her legs don’t work from the knees down. Yes, chickens have knees, although comparative anatomy would suggest it’s technically more like ankles I’m talking about. The bendy bit in the middle. It doesn’t work.

Medical opinion had it there was a chance the nerve was just bruised and she’d recover, given time. It’s been eight months. It ain’t happening.

But she’s alert. She has a good appetite. She gobbles up treats and shows an interest in her surroundings. She’s really no more trouble than the other chickens. I’m going to stick with her as long as she wants to stick with us.

Since Maggie’s accident, I’ve probably eaten upwards of fifty chickens without shedding a tear. But this is *my* chicken. The heart has its reasons. Shut up.

May 15, 2014 — 10:29 pm
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