More Trouble

Yesterday after I posted trouble tore the super glue off her wing along with a quarter sized piece of her own flesh. I walked into the bathroom to find the back of the toilet and the wall covered with blood. I did that sudden intake of breath that you do when you want to swear but the words aren't there. Trouble cocked her head at me. I imagine she said, "did I make a mess?" Then she gleefully tore off a chunk of dandelion. She seemed pretty pleased with herself. Her demeanor was an exact match to that of the ferret who had a half out ago gotten into the can of used coffee grounds and spread the all over the floor.
Andrew was not home so running away was not a viable option. Fortunately Trouble's lack of concern for the situation worked magic on me. Because she seemed to view the whole thing as a nice mess she'd made for me, so did I. Messes I can deal with.
I ran for the supper glue but found upon closure inspection that the wound had already clotted. It was really hardly bleeding at all. So crooning my 'eeze okay' chant, I coated the area in Neosporin, which stopped the last of the bleeding.
After I had her all patched up and back on her perch, I took a video so I could show you just how much blood a chicken can loose in a ten minute interval and go right on being a perfectly alert, normal chicken apparently unperturbed by the fact that she nearly just made herself bleed to death.




Trouble is apply named. We decided to call her that because when they chickens were tiny fluffy things, she would always lead the freakout fest. "The sky is falling! The sky is falling?" The day she god hurt Andrew was feeling bad for her because she was hurt and calling her trouble seemed mean. He suggested maybe we should change her name. After I showed him this video and finished relating the day's drama, I asked if he still thought we should change her name. He said, "yeah, we should change it to Dumb Ass."
I think we'll stick with Trouble.