Because it's studio tour and I'm pretty darn busy, something is usually thrown into the mix to make my life even more complicated. Today Forrest alerted me that he thinks the chickens are picking on one of the hens, Matilda. I went out to check, between helping customers, and Matilda was hiding out hiding in the egg laying box when all the other hens were out free ranging, eating free bugs and having fun. So I picked her up to have a look-see (in my grown up clothes, all nice and clean, not my usual farm clothes) and I noticed she smelled kinda bad then saw where her back beneath her wings was, well, raw skin and no feathers and really yucky. So I brought her inside the house, put her in a box and went to get the neosporin. Rubbed a bunch on her back (ewwww!) and told her not to touch it. She thought I said "Touch it" cuz she had neosporin all over her beak with a bit of feathers stuck to it too in a manner of seconds. Did you know that chickens could turn their heads 180 (degrees) around?! I thought I should make her one of those clear cones so she couldn't get to it. How cute would that be?!
She seems to be in good spirits though, eating and holding her head up. (That's a sure sign of not-being-so-darn-good, when chickens hang their heads.) I remembered that a visiting dog had chased one of the chickens but didn't think he had injured one, but I guess that's what happened.
I went out to greet customers in the studio all day, (after putting more 'Rain' oil essence on) and came in at dark thinking that Matilda would be hunkered down in her box, asleep for the night. Nope, no chicken. I looked and looked, called her name, but no answer. An hour later I walked into the back room and there she was, on the dog's bed! And Casey was right next to her, but had given up his bed to her. Good boy, Casey!
Trapper had to come see what was happening and who had taken up the entire doggie bed.
I guess Matilda rules, so this is where she'll be for the night, after I get that neosporin on and make that little chicken cone for her.
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