I threw a fistful of scratch as far as I could, and watched as my five girls toddered into a storm of seed. A small patch of red caught my eye. It was on Dottie’s bum.
After cautiously walking over, I picked her up, turning her upside-down all in one chicken mama move. My stomach dropped. I had read about this, but never saw one in person.
Dottie had a prolapsed vent.
I placed Dottie (a Golden Laced Wyandotte) in a carrier and loaded her in my car. This chicken emergency marked the first time I left my house since COVID-19 shut down my state and the nation. My husband and I grabbed face masks and began the 20-minute drive to the avian expert.
We were breaking lockdown.
The pandemic protocol required us to call the clinic once we arrived, and to wait for someone to take Dottie. I checked in, as asked, then placed Dottie on the sidewalk in front of my car. Shortly after, a vet tech wearing a mask and gloves grabbed the carrier. Fifteen minutes went by, then I received a call from the vet. He said she did have a prolapse, but that it already was reversing. And that she has an egg ready to drop.
So she was going to be OK. And we got to break out of our quarantine for an hour, so considered it all a win-win.