RIP Yoko

Earlier this evening after a vet consultation we decided that it was time to say goodbye to Yoko. It was really hard. It’s been a difficult week. I can’t quite get my head around the fact that I don’t have any hens now. I miss Yoko and I miss having my girls. I’m really sad.

Despite the ‘success’ of the operation, Yoko had got worse and worse all week. She stopped showing any interest in life – going off her food, drinking less and spending most of her time sleeping in her makeshift nestbox/carrier in the shed. Whilst I was at work Rich would check on her continuously through the day and I would take over the minute I got in from work.

We were hoping she would improve, but it wasn’t to be. It could have been a number of things associated with the operation and her peritonitis, nothing that could really be ‘fixed’. We just didn’t want her to suffer and just ‘exist’. Despite having sterile EYP, she’d had an extra 18 months with us. She’d had a good run outside of the battery cages and we dedicated so much of ourselves to giving her extra care.

So our vet gave us a couple of minutes to say goodbye. I told her how much we’d enjoyed having her, how much I cared for her, how she could say hello to the others for me and could keep them in line, wherever they were. I stroked her head and as she’d done all week, she nodded off. We were let out the back way and I stood in the car park and cried. I cried for Yoko and cried for the fact that I’ve now said goodbye to the last of my first girls.

It just feels odd. I keep wanting to go out and check on them, or feel compelled to be outside at dusk. I see food and think I’ll save it for a treat for my girls. We’ve cleared out her things in the shed; I didn’t want to see her empty box and food and water bowls around.

So now my Smallest Smallholding is chickenless. In some ways it’ll be relief to not worry about my hens; the past year or so has seen at least one of them going through an illness. I won’t have to get up so early in the summer to let them out, I won’t feel the guilt of missing them whilst I’m at work.

But I feel SO strongly that there are three or four other girls out there, currently behind bars, unaware that they’ll be coming here to live out the rest of their lives. That, I know, is a certainty. We’ll have a break; lots of vet bills are expensive and we need a holiday. But this isn’t it. It’s not over for my Smallest Smallholding, despite the fact that my first girls are now no longer with us.

But this break…being without hens…for me, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to. A lot.

Rest in Peace Yoko. You were a wonderfully bright, vivacious girl and you brought me a lot of happiness. I hope you liked your life here. I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know xxx

Return of the Yoko

Well, she’s back. We’re amazed. In all honesty, I didn’t think I’d be writing this post this evening.

Having dropped her off at five past eight this morning, I expected that was the last time I’d ever see her. I blubbed, signed the forms and said my goodbyes, went home, blubbed some more and lay flat on my back watching Little Women and Anne of Green Gables via YouTube, trying to buoy my mood. There was a slim chance of things working out, but I was bracing myself.

Then around half past noon, the vet called. My stomach leapt, my heart banged so hard it almost leapt out of my chest. Rich took the call – his eyebrows raised and I could hear snippets of conversation that didn’t tell me too much, “oh really?” , “oh…ok!”, “I’m amazed”. I knew she wasn’t gone.

When Rich finally hung up he looked a bit stunned. “Well she’s still here…they managed to take off 600ml of egg yolk….she’s still pretty big but she’s made it through the anaesthetic and she’s standing up now. She’s not out of the woods yet but she’s doing OK”.

It was weird. We’d both been so geared up to lose her. We were getting ready for life without chickens for a while. And it had all changed.

As it wasn’t our vet that performed the operation, we were waiting for her to call later in the day when she’d been to check on Yoko. We waited four and a half hours before she came in for her shift and called us. She was happy for Yoko to be sent home. “We can go and pick her up now if we want,” Rich said, still looking a bit stunned. I couldn’t believe we were making the journey back in.

After waiting a while in the busy vet’s reception, we were called in. It was the second time I had to do a bent-backed hobble into one of the consultation rooms. “Bad back,” I said as I crookedly shuffled past into the room where my beautiful Big Bird was waiting in her carrier for me. We took the lid off to see her, the veterinary nurse explained how the operation had gone and how Yoko had managed to breathe on her own for a whole hour under anaesthetic. Her colour had remained good throughout, although she had quite a lot of oxygen during her recovery. I couldn’t believe how she was standing up, peering at me and looking ever so slightly peeved.

So we took her home with her Baytril, Metacam, and paid Maureen’s expenses – so were around £170 lighter. When Yoko got out of the carrier, it was starting to get dark so she hopped straight back in, demanding to be taken to bed. She drank, ate, gobbled grapes, took her medicine, pecked on some more corn and settled in well.

We’ve not really had a chance to see her properly walking around, although from the way she shifted herself around in the nestbox/carrier, she’s definitely got much more manouvrability than she did before. She’s still large, but a lot of the pressure is gone, and I’m hoping tomorrow we’ll see her walking with more ease and she’ll be just more comfortable in general.

This operation was a risk, and it turns out a risk worth taking. Well, it was a last resort really. And regardless of the outcome, I still feel it was the right thing to do. Yoko still isn’t completely out of the woods yet – there’s still a risk of infection, and we don’t know what’ll happen in the days and possibly weeks to come. Next week she’ll be going on Suprelorin, a hormonal therapy that will hopefully bring her internal egg laying to a halt, and effectively solves that problem. She’s not ‘fixed’ as such, but I’m hoping that her time with us has been extended and that her quality of life has been improved. Because ultimately, that’s what it’s all about. It’s not about keeping her going for our sake, it’s about giving her as long as she can have out of the cages, and for her to experience a good quality of life during that time.

I admit, having a break from hens and the worrying would have ultimately been good for me for a while. Now things are a bit more complicated because if Yoko looks like she’s going to keep going, we’ll get her a couple of chums because it wouldn’t be fair to leave her on her own. And inevitably, there’ll be more worry and stress…and enjoyment too. I just don’t know what the future will bring. For now, we’ll just concentrate on seeing how she goes on this treatment before we leap into anything else. It’s a serious decision taking on more hens, but we’ve learnt a lot and will be so much more prepared the next time we take on some more girls, whenever that’ll be.

But for now, I just need some quiet time. I need things to settle down, for my back to heal, for Yoko to heal, to just get back into a steady rhythm of life where things just chug along. That would be nice. And I hope Yoko will be here chugging alongside me too.