Chickens, Please Stop Dying So Soon (RIP Zoey, 2014-2020)

As if all the anxiety about the pandemic wasn't bad enough, I've got another thing to worry about. Last year two my chicken-nieces, Annie and Chick, died. Now Zoey is starting to show some of the same symptoms they had. One sister says she didn't even come out for mealworms last night. Another sister confirms that she was just hanging around the nestboxes, like Chick did before she died. Zoey did come out later this morning, but every time she stands still, I get scared. I don't need this! This is a horrible time for a pet to die. We're all on edge already over Covid-19, and I still feel bad about Chick. We're low on money, too, so I don't know if we could pay for medical treatment for Zoey, even if there was something that could be done. And if she does die, then what? We might be able to afford to have her cremated and put in a nice little wood box like Annie and Chick, but with the pandemic, will that be possible? What if Arizona goes on lockdown before we get her ashes back? Or if the pet crematorium is shut down? What if 2 of the girls die? What happens to the Last Hen Standing? The answer, unfortunately, isn't to get more chickens. Mom put her foot down on that idea, and I understand where she's coming from. Chicken are expensive to care for, we're not getting any younger or healthier, and we can't count on my nephews (who really want us to get more) to take up the slack. (Plus, I don't think we can trust the dogs to behave around chicks.) I know it's not greatest thing in the world to worry about now, but I'm still worried.

Thanks for the hug, mccardey. Fortunately, Zoey is doing much better now. Apparently she just had a touch of constipation and is now eating like a champ, especially the treats.

mccardey said:

Oh My little old girl just died. She was the one who didn't identify as a chicken, who spent her life protecting the hens. I will miss her. She was one of my first clutch - and she was lovely.

RIP, my darling old girl. Oh, I loved you.

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Poor girl. I feel sad with you.

Zoey was found dead in the coop this morning. She probably died of the same basic thing as Annie and Chick; oldish age and infection caused by an egg in the wrong part of the body. (We aren't getting a necropsy this time, but it's a reasonable guess.) She, too, will be cremated and put in a nice box.

Thank you for your condolences. Zoey's ashes came back a few weeks ago in a little cedar box; appropriate for a Rhode Island red.

Mel and Silvie seem to be doing okay, though I'm really nervous whenever they do something abnormal. For instance, I had to be reassured last week that Mel panting heavier than Silvie wasn't a sign that Mel was next, but rather a sign to give them frozen peas. They ate them with gusto.

I'm not sure who's head of the pecking order now that Zoey's gone. I'm not even sure there's a pecking order anymore. No fighting, no posturing. It's almost like "you and me against the world, so let's be BFFs and enjoy free room and board together, okay?"

It was hot, and frozen peas are one way we cool down the girls. They love 'em. They also have a pan of water to dip their feet in, but they'd rather drink out of it. We also put a block of ice in their real drinking water. When it's really hot we spray them gently with the hose; they don't like that at all.