Just Call me the Chicken Whisperer


Yesterday, my mom decided to move our chickens out of the shade so she could clean the shaded area. Unfortunately, she didn’t clean the area and left, leaving the chickens in the 95˚F sun. By the time we realized what was going on, the smallest chicken (front in picture) had died of heat stroke. We moved the chickens that were still alive back to their old area. This was when I realized one of them was dying too (black and white, 3rd from front). It was breathing heavily, its pupils were dilating and contracting rapidly and it was swaying its head in a dazed manner. Being a boy scout has taught me many skills, including how to treat for heat stroke. I grabbed the chicken and took it into the cool basement. I spent the next half hour petting it gently and drip fed it water while talking to it. After just a few minutes, it started to recover. I then brought it some food and added a bit of salt to the water so it didn’t just excrete it all immediately. After a while longer my cat arrived to see what all the commotion was about. Evidently, it had fully recovered judging by how it managed to fly away. At this point, we captured it and returned it back to its coop in the shade with the others. Having checked on it today, I’m happy to report that it has reverted to its normal state of being annoying and clucking constantly.


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