First, I want to let you know that dAhub finally got a job! Hooray! His new company is wonderful and seems like a perfect fit. He really enjoys his work there and they seem like a dynamic and fun company. Phew. This is such a load off of our minds, I can’t even tell you. We are settling into our new routine (which is like our old routine except for the fact that I now have the house to myself during most of the day. This is very helpful when you’re writing a book!)
The other big thing that happened to us is that one of our chickens, Lulu, developed a life-threatening respiratory infection a couple of a weeks ago. We have been pretty lucky with our chickens–mostly they are fine and healthy and if they do get sick, I haven’t noticed. (Except for the chicken in our old flock who had avian malaria–that was weird). Anyway, one day I kept hearing a sound like a child’s squeaky toy in the back yard. I went out to see what was going on and I noticed that Lulu was sneezing. If you have never heard a chicken sneeze, you are missing out–it’s actually quite cute. The cute part got lost on me when I realized that I could hear her wheezing. It was so loud that it sounded like she was moaning. And she was just kind of standing in one part of the yard, sneezing and wheezing.
I quickly did a search on the various chicken sites to see if there was any useful info. When I couldn’t find anything, I called the vet. We have a wonderful vet in town who only works with birds and reptiles. We don’t need to call her very often, but when we do, we know our girls are in good hands. So, I called the vet office, explained the situation, and let them listen to Lulu’s wheezing. They said to bring her in ASAP and they would check her between appointments. So, I dug out the cat carrier we use for the chickens, lined it with a towel, and went out to get Lulu. Lulu, even though she was sick, was not keen on being caught (none of them are–they hate being held even though they will put up with it if we insist). As I chased her, she ran and wheezed. It broke my heart. I finally got her, put her in the carrier and took her to the vet.
As soon as we got there, the vet came and got Lulu and said she were going to give her oxygen while they checked her out. Poor thing. And, in case you’re wondering, no–they didn’t put an oxygen mask on her beak. They put her into a box that had oxygen pumped in–like an oxygen tent. Then vet came out and said that they’d like to do a series of tests, and keep her overnight. And by keeping her overnight, it meant that the vet was going to take her home to keep her under observation. Now, that’s service! I OK’d everything and went to the front counter to handle the paperwork.
One of the many wonderful things about this vet office is that they have a small bird (a cockatiel, I think) named Billy who hangs out around the front counter and is the office mascot. He’s very pretty and isn’t afraid of people. He just kind of hops around the desk and does his own thing. I reached over to grab a business card from the card holder and Billy raised his plumage and made a motion like he was going to go over and get one for me. I then looked and saw that he had nibbled around the edges of all of the cards. Of course. He considered those *his* cards. He wasn’t that keen that I took one. That totally cracked me up. Anyway, I got a card, took care of business, and left.
The next day, they called to say that Lulu was much better but that she had a respiratory infection and was on antibiotics. They said that they were pleased and surprised because they thought she wouldn’t live through the night. I was so relieved to hear she was better. They asked me to come in and get a lesson from the vet on how to give antibiotic shots. Ack. Usually, I am not a good person around this. I am fine with getting a shot if I need one, but giving one? Nope. In fact, when I was in high school, our biology teacher had an experiment where we were all assigned a baby chick and we had to inject them with hormones to change the sex of the chick. I begged to get a control chick so I didn’t have to inject it. And fast forward to now, where the Universe apparently decided that I needed to learn how to give a shot to a chicken.
As it turned out, the shots weren’t that bad. The shots were injected into Lulu’s breast muscle, which apparently has very few nerve endings. I had to give three shots a day (antibiotics plus pain relievers) and she didn’t even flinch–thank goodness. dAhub was impressed the first time he saw me give a shot–Lulu didn’t do anything. She just stood there as if nothing had happened. The vet also showed me how to give a chicken massage if I wanted to treat Lulu. Apparently, they love to be massaged up under the wings, where the wing meets the body. I did that each day after her shot. I also gave her grapes–she loves grapes and so those were her after-shot-treats (kind of like a lollipop that a kids gets after the doctor).
The other thing we had to do was to keep her inside for a few days–we were going through a cold snap and it was too cold for a sick chicken to be outside. She needed to be inside to not aggravate the infection. So, on the way home from the vet, I stopped at the nearest PetCo and got a large dog kennel. We set that up in the living room, lined with a towel and containing her water and food. We called it Lulu’s Chicken Recovery Unit. I think at first she was confused at what was going on and why she was in the weird kennel, but after a day or two she seemed to like it. We chatted with her while she was in there and I covered the holes with a sheet at night so the lights wouldn’t bother her (chickens are used to going to sleep when it’s dark and waking up when it’s light). She only bawked one morning (which was really weird–having chicken bawking inside of the house).
During the day, I put her in the Exercise Room (the bathroom) so she could walk around without making a huge mess all over the house. (Chickens are birds–they poop often and anywhere. It’s crazy) After about three days in the kennel, I then put her outside to be with the other chickens during the day. The vet warned us that there might be some pecking order issues. As you probably know, chickens have an actual pecking order. The top chicken pecks all of the other chickens to keep them in line. And the last chicken in the order can even get pecked to death if they are too weak. So, when I took Lulu out the first day, I stuck around to see what would happen. Billina came over and tried to peck Lulu–but Lulu was having none of it and pecked back. Then Rosie (our oldest and most cranky chicken) chased Lulu and gave her a nip on the tail feathers. And that was it. I brought Lulu in each evening for the duration of the her shots to sleep in her Recovery Unit. It was very sweet–she got used to coming in each night, so when the other chickens went into the coop, Lulu came to the back door to wait for me to let her in.
After seven days, she recovered completely and has returned to her chicken life in the back yard. I think she was a bit confused for a couple of days–she would come to the back door at night to be let in–and couldn’t figure out why Girlfriend would chase her into the coop. I think she liked the warm house and the nice treats in the Recovery Unit. But, now that is a distant memory and she is back with her chicken flock (as opposed to her human flock).
In the midst of all of this, I got the hankering to make a coffee cake. I think I was more stressed out than I realized. As you know, I am a huge fan of coffee cakes. During the Lulu process, a pal of mine wrote on Facebook that she had made a bourbon buttermilk coffee cake that she said “was out of this world.” My interest was immediately piqued. Bourbon? Awesome. I had that. Buttermilk? Check. I also have tons of that because of book recipe testing. I did a bit of research and found out that the recipe she used is from one of my favorite books, Vintage Cakes, by Julie Richardson.
I looked it up and the recipe is the Kentucky Bourbon Cake. It’s a simple-to-make cake that is quite boozy. It turns out that it is probably most suited to adults (at least in my household). I adapted it, baked it, and I served it for dessert. Girlfriend took one bite, spit it out, and said it tasted “gross” because of the alcohol (I love that she thinks this way, ). Most of the alcohol in the cake burns off during the baking and cooking process, but the glaze contains bourbon and the bourbon taste is very strong. Needless to say, dAhub loves it–he is a whiskey fan! Delish! One thing to note: distilled alcohol, no matter what grain it’s made from, is gluten-free. The gluten protein is too big to get through the distillation process. The one caveat: be sure that there is no “mash” added back in after the distillation process. The mash does contain gluten.
I’ve discovered that this cake is great sliced, slightly toasted, and then slathered with butter. Extremely decadent, but we treated ourselves after the time we had with Lulu.
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