This goes out to Buffy, my Buff Orhphington. Our German Shepherd, Fly, attacked her the other day. Somehow the gate to the coop wasn't properly latched and Fly saw the chickens in the yard at exactly the same moment I did. Buffy took a hit, but I think she's going to be alright. I never imagined I'd find myself sitting inside a large dog crate with a sequestered chicken, administering poultry antibiotic (it's cherry flavored, mind you..) by beak with a syringe. Her beak, not mine. She laid an egg last night, which promptly cracked on the bottom of the dog crate, but it's a good sign nonetheless. Godspeed you, little Fluff.
**True story: This song used to make me weep as a child. For no apparent reason. I was struck by its profound beauty, or something akin, I suppose. Completely true. Ask my Dad. Thanks for the memories Vangelis.
***Follow-up: Buffy is doing splendidly, albeit with a few less feathers these days. Thanks for all your mental chicken hugs!