Each morning I pulled him out to care for him. DS powdered up some chick feed for him in a coffee grinder and I found an eyedropper. After watering the feed down I would then feed the "baby" 5-6 times a day. Between feedings it would lay on my left side wrapped in a cloth and then covered with a warmed rice bag. He seemed very happy after 2 droppers full of food, then tucked into my shirt. But was only really happy when something was resting on him,,, a weight. So we got out the rice bag, warmed it and put that over him in my shirt or skirt and only then would he quiet down. Something about the weight that made it comfortable, I have never felt more like the Chicken Lady as I have these last few days. Once he was comfortably settled he would just peep soooo quietly and trill which just about broke my heart and made me love him more. I'd not heard a chick trill for years. That trill that seemed to say even though I'm going to die I thank you so much for the care you are giving me Mum. Yup, like a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.
Every day I brought him out and took care of him and every night I put him back in the cleaned box with the others under the heat lamp. Hoping and praying that they would take care of him, not pick on him and that he'd live to see another day. When the others would be preening their feathers and pecking all round not to mention feeding and watering... he would just fall over. The poor dear couldn't even keep to his feet let alone jockey for a position in the middle of the huddle or even feed himself. I said that when natural instinct was given out he was left holding the door. It's a poor joke and it's very sad as Kate found him dead today. Somehow I knew last night was the last time I would be able to look into his bright eyes and adore him. I tried so hard to keep the little guy alive and I'm just broken hearted that he's not going to be following me around my house for the next 10 years.
The one DD calls Lacy Jr. is my little Peeper-the one with a yellow stripe down each side on black. Sort of doesn't move much when you are seeing him in the box. He's the first one she pulled out of the box at the store he's the one she picked out so she feels doubly bad. Now she knows why he was the "runt" and that sometimes you don't want the sad looking ones.... as they only break your heart. I seem to be more upset then her, for that I'm grateful. She made him a little box and I made his shroud in blue satin. RIDICULOUS! I know, I can't help it though. She wants to bury him near our old dog Lady. Normally, before I got so sick, they would holler, "Mom! we got another dead chicken what should we do with it" then I would say, "toss it in the trash!" Callous, as living on a mini ranch, well death is all a part of it. I feel more then slightly unhinged today. I cried for a few hours and then went back to sleep. I'm not fit for service and so serve I will not.
Here you can see everybody eating and happy BUT my Peeper... still trying to teach it to eat and drink... to no avail. The others picked up fast as you can see.
I think I will try to finish In Dreams. I don't like the edge the way the finished ones are coming out, think I'm going to pull a Neibling if I have enough yarn. I want to just crochet chain loops around it for a more finished look. Or perhaps my beaded picot cast off with work well here.
Facing a huge mess here of yarn and reference books for the book I'm writing, really need to get organized and put all this stuff in one place as it's taking over. A private place where I can think to actually get some stuff written. Perhaps I should reorder my bedroom where my office stuff has landed. Then I could close the door and then folks would know I was writing.
To those of you who wanted to go to Sock Summit I hope you got in. Have a great day.