Chicken Hospital

Sigh.

Sometimes, chickens are just too brutal to be borne.

This afternoon, I discharged Mr. Bloody Butt from Chicken Hospital.  This was a wonderful thing, as he had been in his cardboard-box-Ward-A for the past three days, recovering from defuzzing and pecking at his little chickie hiney.  Who knows what started it, but he had a heck of a wound that needed recovery time without little beaks pecking at his behind.

Off he went back amongst his cousins, siblings and cousins twice removed.  All was well and Chicken Hospital was off active duty. But then, at mid-day feeding, I found these two, the Bloody Wing Twins.  Again, why??  Why?? Oh, the agony. 

Actually, they don't appear to be in much pain, just bloody from their little friends biting at and stripping off their growing wing feathers.  It's more gross than anything, and because blood happens to be red, and red makes chickens peck like crazy, they need to be separated from their brethren (and each other).

Chicken Hospital has expanded to Ward A and Ward B.  I sure hope we don't need a Ward C, as I don't have any more cardboard boxes.  My closet is pretty small, too, what with it acting as the pantry, clothes closet, and general repository of debris not currently needed elsewhere.

Chickens.  The unsung cannibals of the animal world.  Ommm nomm nomm nomm.