Many people ask us about White Hens’s health; we have no answers, no drama.

This is animal chicken hospice; we’re not looking for cures. We are not trying to save her or keep her alive for months or years. We’re just making her comfortable. She’ll die when she is ready.  No vets, no medicine, no investigation, no hand-wringing. We are very fond of her, but she is an animal, and people worldwide suffer.  I always keep that in mind.

She looks better every day, but not dramatically. I have no doubt she is near the end. She spends the day in the stall with food and water, and at night, hops up on the railing to spend the night.  She eats for herself.

She has no interest in going out, and there is a foot of snow on the ground anyway, so that is not a choice. She continues to get excited when she sees Maria, and I believe the two are communicating. She sat perfectly still for her nail trim.

I love our dogs; they are always curious and rushed in to see her, and she was calm and at ease when they did. I don’t expect her to live until Spring.

See no evil, hear no evil, do no evil. The posse showed up together.  Everyone showed up to see what was happening with the White Hen. I told them to get lost. They did have a worried look, but it could be my imagination. The dogs have never harmed any of the chickens. Zip annoys them and steals their food when we aren’t around, but he’s never tried to hurt her. They reminded me this morning of relatives visiting a loved one in the hospital. Thank God Bud was inside the farmhouse; there was too much snow for him, and he didn’t like chickens.

Maria clipped her nails, which were getting way too long. White Hen was calm around Maria. They seemed to talk to one another, and she let Maria pick her up and move her around. She was getting to the food and drink herself.

One last hug and back in the stall.