On Christmas evening, I realized that my Midnight Majesty Marans was suffering from severe frostbite. Eleanor, who had molted very late (and extremely hard) was acting "off" and refusing to roost with the other hens in her coop, which I attributed to her molt. When I picked her up, I was horrified by her feet.
I've had chickens with frostbite on their combs and wattles, but I've never before had to deal with it on feet.
I rushed her into the house, got her to the vet ASAP and began a regimen of twice-daily Epsom salt foot baths, along with an antibiotic, pain/inflammation med and burn ointment, and rewrapped her feet twice a day in gauze and Vet Wrap, all the while crating her in an upstairs bedroom. She saw my incredible avian vet three times, including a visit where Dr. Meyer cut off Eleanor's necrotic toes.
Eleanor retained her feet and about half of her toes, and can walk around okay. I have had other poultry with feet/leg issues, and they have all adapted to their new reality. Critters don't feel sorry for themselves; they just get on with life.
Yesterday, I sent photos of Eleanor's feet to Dr. M -- who lives in an adjacent county -- who said the feet look good enough to discontinue the Epsom baths! Eleanor and I are thrilled!
Although Dr. M didn't tell me until later, she believed Eleanor was "nearly dead" when I brought her in.
By the end of last week, Eleanor clearly believed she been soaked enough. She began trying to escape from the large bowl in the bath tub where she had calmly, though not happily, received treatment for weeks. I probably deserved every wing-slap to the face that she gave me. I feel extremely guilty for not realizing sooner what her real problem was.
Yesterday afternoon, I upgraded Eleanor to a much larger wire dog kennel and installed a low, 5 1/2-inch-wide wooden roost. I let her eat dinner and left her alone upstairs. When I went up later, there was Eleanor, proudly sitting on the roost -- her first experience perching on anything other than my arm (shoulder, head) or briefly, on the edge of the bath tub, since late last year.
Today, I will remove her wraps. Some of the new, healthy pink skin bled a bit last week (probably from thrashing around in the tub) but seems to be healed now.
Although the weather has gotten warmer -- slightly above freezing this week but with single digits ahead -- I don't want to subject her to the cold after weeks of indoor, heated living. Also, I don't want to throw her back into the coop with her old flock, just in case they don't remember their lifelong friend and cause her to damage her new tissue.
One idea: I have an accidental "house chicken" who is afraid of other chickens (another long story). I am hoping to move Eleanor's crate next to Dottie's downstairs, and if a miracle happens and they appear to like each other, move both outdoors together in the spring.
I am so proud of Eleanor -- who was named for Eleanor of Aquitaine, a powerful 12th-century woman who ruled in both England and France. My girl is also one tough chick!
I've had chickens with frostbite on their combs and wattles, but I've never before had to deal with it on feet.
I rushed her into the house, got her to the vet ASAP and began a regimen of twice-daily Epsom salt foot baths, along with an antibiotic, pain/inflammation med and burn ointment, and rewrapped her feet twice a day in gauze and Vet Wrap, all the while crating her in an upstairs bedroom. She saw my incredible avian vet three times, including a visit where Dr. Meyer cut off Eleanor's necrotic toes.
Eleanor retained her feet and about half of her toes, and can walk around okay. I have had other poultry with feet/leg issues, and they have all adapted to their new reality. Critters don't feel sorry for themselves; they just get on with life.
Yesterday, I sent photos of Eleanor's feet to Dr. M -- who lives in an adjacent county -- who said the feet look good enough to discontinue the Epsom baths! Eleanor and I are thrilled!
Although Dr. M didn't tell me until later, she believed Eleanor was "nearly dead" when I brought her in.
By the end of last week, Eleanor clearly believed she been soaked enough. She began trying to escape from the large bowl in the bath tub where she had calmly, though not happily, received treatment for weeks. I probably deserved every wing-slap to the face that she gave me. I feel extremely guilty for not realizing sooner what her real problem was.
Yesterday afternoon, I upgraded Eleanor to a much larger wire dog kennel and installed a low, 5 1/2-inch-wide wooden roost. I let her eat dinner and left her alone upstairs. When I went up later, there was Eleanor, proudly sitting on the roost -- her first experience perching on anything other than my arm (shoulder, head) or briefly, on the edge of the bath tub, since late last year.
Today, I will remove her wraps. Some of the new, healthy pink skin bled a bit last week (probably from thrashing around in the tub) but seems to be healed now.
Although the weather has gotten warmer -- slightly above freezing this week but with single digits ahead -- I don't want to subject her to the cold after weeks of indoor, heated living. Also, I don't want to throw her back into the coop with her old flock, just in case they don't remember their lifelong friend and cause her to damage her new tissue.
One idea: I have an accidental "house chicken" who is afraid of other chickens (another long story). I am hoping to move Eleanor's crate next to Dottie's downstairs, and if a miracle happens and they appear to like each other, move both outdoors together in the spring.
I am so proud of Eleanor -- who was named for Eleanor of Aquitaine, a powerful 12th-century woman who ruled in both England and France. My girl is also one tough chick!
