Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Specialist, schmecialist, get your hand out of my ass.

Buck has been a little wheezy for a couple of days.  Can chickens get asthma?  What do I know?   I thought from a bit of reading about it that there could be all kinds of lurking respiratory dangers that would spread through the flock faster than you can say "Buck!".   I called my vet who has been wonderful with my cats, very understanding about my dogs and to whom my family has always gone with all problems animal.
"I don't know anything about chickens." He says.
Well, that makes 2 of us.
I called an avian specialist in a town under an hour away, and made an appointment for later that day.
Come 3:00, I get a towel and a cat carrier, invade the coop where I have made everyone stay rather than be miserable out in this torrential rain we're having, and corner Buck.  He is hunkered down, ready for a final spring so I catch him in mid-air,  wrap the towel around him and pop him into the cat carrier.  The hens are all standing around  saying things like
"Did you see what she did to him?"
"Oh, I know...."
It's so awful!"
"Oh, I know....."
He crowed most of the way to Marlborough, and kept it up in the vet's office.  The other patrons and their patients seemed to get a charge out of a chicken in a vet's office.  I suppose if I had taken him to, say, an Orthopedic surgeon, they might think I was taking that politician from Nevada at her word and bringing him as payment.
Buck and I waited, he told everyone what his opinion of them really was, and I filled out forms - 3 pages - containing questions I could not answer:  How old is he.  Where did he come from.  Please list all vaccinations.  What is the problem.  How much does he eat.  Does he live in the house with you.
I figure most of the birds this guy sees are parrots or other slave birds, because he had no idea what breed he was, how old he was or why he was asthmatic, but gave me anti-biotics, just in case anti-biotics were what was needed, and I was grateful that he had taken turd samples to look for parasites, [there were none, they wouldn't dare] and stared down his beak under a bright light, and examined his feet that I didn't get around to telling him how I feel about anti-biotics.
I'm going to go with nature's anti-biotics, and up the vitamin C content of his diet.
I watched Buck being manhandled mercilessly in a way that I couldn't have imagined him tolerating if I had not seen it for myself.
All the way home Buck was thoughtful.
He laid down in the center of the carrier and nibbled some grapes.
When released back into his home, his ladies were still there, glad to see him clustering around, and as I walked away I could hear him telling them -
"Brrrr.....ack!  Grrrrr ipity waht -  buh!!"

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Glad to hear from you, but criticisms will be ignored. It's the beauty of the web. I will answer all friendly remarks. Buck handles the rest.