“The boys’ wailing was drowned out by the squeal of the tires as I whipped the car into the emergency turnstile. They had been wailing the whole way here. Eeny, cool as a cucumber, is doubled over in the front seat clutching her bloody jacket.
I slam the car in park, and we barrel out of the car and into the lobby.
‘WE’RE THE EVANS!’ I screamed. ‘I’m the one that called a few minutes ago.’
The nurse jumped up from her seat and grabbed her walkie talkie.
‘TRIAGE. STAT. CHICKEN!!!’ she yelled into it.
Immediately several nurses ran out and scooped the half dead chicken out of Eeny’s arms and rushed her into the back.
‘What’s the chicken’s name?,’ the front desk girl asked.
‘COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!’ wailed Eeny. ‘Is she gonna be okayyyyyyy?!’
I turned around to see everyone in the waiting room mouths agape staring at us. Yes y’all…. the Evans are here. Behold.
Let me rewind a little bit.
We had just moved the chicken coop inside the goat pen so that they could free range a little bit. The boys quickly discovered that if you heave a chicken up in the air just enough, they will flap their wings and fly just a little. The higher you throw them, the farther they fly.
So, they’re out in the field ‘chicken-tossing’ as I come out on the back porch.
‘Ya’ll quit that someone is going to get hurt,’ I yell in my best southern accent as I turn around to head back into the house.
No sooner had I made it to the living room than I heard the shrieks from outside. I looked out the window to see Eeny heaving a chicken over the fence (from the outside) and the German Shepard barreling out of the creek looking discombobulated. The boys were wailing and so I took off toward the field.
By the time I made it down there all 3 kids were bawling and Eeny is holding the wretched thing wrapped up in her coat.
‘Is she okay?’ I screamed!
Eeny pulled back her jacket to reveal the bird’s chest which yes y’all, looked like raw freaking chicken. I’m not kidding. *BLECH*
We had just lost the squirrel and the hamster the week before- I just didn’t feel like the kids could handle yet another death on the farm. So, I did what any sane mama would do, and I googled emergency vets and started making phone calls. It took me three tries to find one that agreed to see a chicken. And so that’s where we were.
After much coercing, coaxing, and a little threatening the truth came out. [Name omitted to protect the minor] had heaved a chicken but held on a little too long. Thus, the follow thru principle came into play and instead of flying forward. The poor bird was launched backwards over his head and unfortunately over the fence- right into the jaws of the very excited German Shepard.
Eeny thinking quick on her feet jumped the fence and barrel kicked the dog in the neck which caused him to lose his grip and also stumble backwards falling down into the creek. This gave Eeny just enough time to grab the limp bird and toss her to safety. This was about the time I came tearing down the hill.
Fast forward back…
After 3 hours at the emergency vet and countless ‘free’ bags of pretzels- which I assured the kids weren’t really ‘free’ and that we were paying dearly for- we found ourselves at the Walmart pharmacy.
‘Hi, I have a prescription to pick up,’ I said.
‘Patient name?’ the cashier nonchalantly asked.
‘Ummmmm Cockadoodledoo Evans?’ I responded.
‘Um, ok birthdate?’ she asked.
‘Ma’am I’m not really sure, it’s a chicken,’ I said.
She tried very hard to stifle her laughter until I gave her permission. ‘Ma’am it’s ok you can laugh. I realize how ridiculous I am right now,’ as she gave way to hysterics.
It was about this time my boys ‘accidentally’ knocked over a huge display of mini hand sanitizers and they scattered all over the pharmacy section- across 3 aisles. I just looked back at her with dismay as she handed me the script. We picked up all the millions of tiny bottles and left with our dignity not so much intact.
So, then we were at home with a chicken who was on antibiotics twice a day, an anti-inflammatory once a day, and needed daily dressing changes. I was forced to make a bed out of a giant Rubbermaid storage container and yes, move her into my bathtub for the time being.
She did great the rest of the weekend as we returned for a bandage change the following day and come Monday the farm vet was open and they graciously agreed to teach me how to do the dressing changes myself, so I didn’t need to keep bringing her in.
All was fine and dandy except I was expected in Raleigh that week for a training program at my corporate office. I desperately tried to find someone to foster poor Cockadoodledoo but found no takers. I was desperate. After this amount of money and time invested, I couldn’t just leave her! She wouldn’t make it. (And yes, she was a $3 chicken at the outset.)
And y’all this is the point where I believe I truly lost my mind. (Because I was CLEARLY operating at full capacity sanity prior to this.)
I called the hotel in Raleigh and asked about their pet policy. ‘We love pets here!! Go ahead and bring yours!’ (I never mentioned that it was a chicken.)
And so, after leaving the farm vet, bag of prescriptions and wound care in hand, Cockadoodledoo and I started out on the 4-hour drive. Upon arriving at the hotel, I went in a registered and mentioned that I needed to pay the pet deposit which they gladly accepted. I scoped out the lobby and seeing no one I knew returned to my car to retrieve the giant Rubbermaid bin complete with a bandaged chicken.
As I stepped back into the lobby 5 of my work colleagues were exiting the elevator. ‘Hey! We are heading to dinner you wanna join- what in the heck are you carrying in here?’
My face burned red.
‘I can’t go to dinner y’all. I have a hurt chicken I need to change the dressing on.’
Jaws hit the floor. The ones that knew me a little better came over to pet the chicken. The others, who knew me less stood back confused and judging. The hotel staff gasped and giggled.
Cockadoodledoo weathered the Raleigh trip just fine. And then wouldn’t you know it just due to scheduling enjoyed a quick vacation trip to Asheville getting snuck into and Airbnb under a pile of winter coats.
I am happy to say that after several weeks in my bathroom and two separate trips to NC I was able to reintroduce Cockadoodledoo back into her flock. (Might I add this is no easy task- apparently chickens have a short memory and if one is absent the others may tend to attack the intruder.) She is doing well and expected to make a full recovery and even expected to begin laying in a few months.
And there you have my chicken story. Y’all… I can’t make this stuff up.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Ashford Evans of Biscuits and Crazy. Follow her journey on website here and Facebook here. Do you have a similar experience? We’d like to hear your important journey. Submit your own story here. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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