While at a friend's yesterday, she says "I& #39;ve got something for you...." . She reaches into her brooder, then tenderly places a tiny chick in my hand. It's no bigger than a spool of thread. It wobbles and falls, unable to stand. Both feet noticeably curled inward. It's caked in dry yolk. One eye fused shut. The other barely open. I can barely grasp what I'm looking at, before she follows up with pleading eyes and two words, " ....Fix it?" Unable to refuse, I take the baby.
This is a peaceful moment after carefully bathing and drying, cleaning it's eyes, feeding it Nutri-drench and electrolytes and taping it's feet in place. The baby next to it is a newly hatched Silkie. A small chick by it's own standards.
The little thing has made it through the night and is trying to eat crumble. We're calling her Grace because my friend is hoping it's a girl. And to get her back when she's good and strong. We need lots of well wishes on this one, for sure.