We have a chicken wire fence around our gardens but it is far from chicken proof. Multiple times during the day we send Cassie to "herd" the chickens back over to their side of the fence.
Cassie our #1 Miss Fixit. If anyone says anything in a reprimanding voice to the cats, the chickens, the goats, whatever, Cassie is right there to take matters in hand. She's a miniature Australian Shepherd.
The hen that was sick the other day managed to get through the fence into the gardens. We have a cover crop of rye still standing on one of the gardens that we are waiting to come to a head so we can crimp it for mulch. It is over 5 feet tall and thick as a medieval forest. FarmBoy Gary was busy preparing to put out the water lines to various parts of the farm when he saw the little hen crouched in the rye.
It stormed last night so she was soaked through and through. I took her back to sick bay; she was lethargic and barely opened her eyes. I mixed together another oatstraw concoction I fixed before and also made a molasses liquid tonic I could squirt into her mouth. She was too far out of it to peck at the oatstraw. I dipped her beak into the Apple Cider Vinegar water and she did swallow so that made me hopeful. I gave her the molasses tonic every 2-3 hours all day. I set her in the sun and as soon as she dryed off she moved into the brooder house; I was glad to see her moving around.
This evening she moved further into the straw to sleep so I'm anxious to see how she is in the morning.
I carry my camera with me all day every day; it's like a siamese twin to my phone. Three weeks ago it was MIA. I have looked EVERYWHERE for that camera. It's just a little Kodak but takes very good pics, it's easy to use and stands up to my rough farm treatment. And, I had a bucket-load of photos in it.
I looked in drawers, under beds, in glove boxes, under the sink, in the hay manger, in the feed bins, on the lawn mower, in the mailbox, in the frig (really), behind the trash burn-bin, in the rain barrel. But, as FarmBoy Gary delights in telling me every time I loose something, "you didn't look EVERYWHERE or you would have found it."
This afternoon he came walking across the lawn swinging my little scratched pink camera by its cord handle. "OH MY GOSH YOU FOUND MY CAMERA", I said in my squealing happy voice. We have a little stack of bricks in the center of my circle herb garden waiting with brick-like patience to become the centerpoint; the camera was laying right on top.
"Oh, yeah, THAT'S where I laid it".
We have had multiple rain storms in three weeks. Hmmm. Not lookin' good. I revved up my famous positive attitude and plugged the camera into the charger. Several hours later I turned it on and it made a pathetic little whine, opened its lens partway then closed up and hasn't made a peep since. I left it for Farmboy Gary; he can fix anything.