I went to go pick up Lucy at the vet today and they gave me a rundown on what to do to care for her wounds. I had not *seen* the wounds up until today. I mean, I saw enough on Thursday to know that there was something really bad going on, but then I rushed her to the vet without inspecting. There was too much goo and matted feathers and I just wanted to get her there as soon as possible.

Today I got the full, clear picture. Holy fucking shit. It's a really good thing that I'm in my second trimester and no longer nauseous, and it's also good that I'm a biology major and have a really strong stomach for exposure to gory nastiness. Because otherwise I think I would have barfed all over the back room of the bird hospital.

I am tempted to take photos, but I don't want you to barf either. The knowledge that FLY MAGGOTS did this to her is absolutely the most disgusting part. Absolutely.

And supposedly her wounds are much, much better than they were before. Uh, when they were squirming with maggots. Now they are actually healing and closing up. But they are still horrific.

All around her cloaca is red, raw flesh. Like an open wound. But an open wound that you poop out of. AND have to lay eggs out of. Eggs are not small, by the way.

There are two vets at the hospital, and one of them told me on Thursday that she had an egg inside all queued up ready to go, and that she would probably lay it as soon as she felt better. So today I asked if she had laid the egg yet, and the other vet said, "No, what egg?"

Then she checked and found the egg inside, *still* ready to go. Poor little hen was just straining every few seconds as she was standing there, and the vet thought she had to poop. It turns out that there was a giant scab at the bottom of her cloaca that was holding it closed so that the egg couldn't come out. The vet had to tear the giant scab off so that the egg could pass, and then help to dig it out of her. Julian and I watched with open mouths. I fought the urge to run home and take an immediate sitz bath.

Julian took it all in stride, like a true farm kid. "Lucy has a BIG owie on the butt!" was his only comment. Yeah, no kidding. You can say that again.

Of course, this is not Julian's first traumatic, gory and violent animal experience.

The egg finally came out and everyone in the back room was enormously relieved. "Jesus, I'll bet THAT feels better!" was pretty much the phrase that came out of everyone's mouth at the same time. All women present.

Apart from the horror that is her cloaca, she has deep two craters in her skin several inches wide on either side. They were firmed up and scabby by the time I saw them. I can only imagine how bad they were before when fresh.

So I was told to spray her butt with warm water in the sink twice a day (yes indeed, a sitz bath), then dry her off and apply antibiotic ointment to all her wounds afterwards. I just did it tonight and I used up half a tube. I need to go get more tomorrow. It's especially hard because of the feathers. I have to pull them aside so that I can see anything, and then keep them from sticking in in the ointment. They have mostly fallen out where the wounds are, but there are still enough feathers around to make it difficult.

Julian the Unflappable Farm Boy has been an invaluable assistant. He stood guard over Lucy's carboard box while I got her crate all set up for indoor habitation yesterday. The kid's set to become a professional bouncer. Every time Bugs came a-sniffin' near Lucy's box, Julian attempted to whack him and shouted, "No, doggie! Don't touch Lucy!"
Then he stood guard right next to the crate door to prevent any unwanted dog intrusions while I was getting her settled in. Very helpful actually, because otherwise I would have had to turn around and whack Bugs away myself. Except that my Chicken Bodyguard was almost standing on top of me while all this was happening. It was a little crowded.

I kept finding him crouched down next to her crate afterwards.
"Are you being nice to the poor chicken? I don't want you to poke her or be mean to her, OK? She's sick and she needs to rest."
"No Mama. Just looking at her. I'm a Good Helper."
"OK, that's fine."