So how is the flock?

I have held off giving an update on our flock due to the unknown. The unknown of if they will live, who will be okay, who won't? I'm hoping now, that I can safely say our chicken flock is on the road to recovery. The respiratory illness that swooped down and took hold of our flock is beginning to let up and let go. Most every chicken we have had a varying degree of this sickness, either with sniffles all the way to runny nose, swollen eyes, a cough and chest congestion. Some chickens rattled when they breathed, a very audible disturbance to my ears. They were breathing with their beaks open, and fighting for their lives. Now, those chickens with their eyes swollen shut, are open again. Those chickens who honkered down, and would not move about, are all free ranging again. During this time, we continued providing antibiotics to them through their water source, a warm place to be and lots of TLC. Each day I would check on them in the barn, I did not know what to expect. The progress seemed so slow. Throughout this multi week process, we had one casualty. Butterscotch. She was the chicken I took to the vet to help them understand the symptoms my chickens were experiencing. She was the sickest at the time, and the one that represented all the others, so the flock could receive the proper assistance. She did her job well, as the vet was able to diagnose and treat the entire flock appropriately. Yet, she could not overcome the respiratory illness that was taking over her little body. When she passed, the other chickens were around her, waiting for her. My heart broke when I checked on the chickens that fatal day, and saw her. What I learned about chickens was that they stay together, even when they are sick and dying. That's what made this whole illness harder to fight, as they all wanted to be together through it, and therefore no one would go outside to free range or move about. If one chicken was honkered down, the others will stay close. Since our chickens have never been sick, I had no idea this would occur.
There are several difficult aspects of Butterscotch's passing that changed the dynamics of the flock, as well as my own thought process regarding chickens in general. Butterscotch was one of our first 2 chickens we purchased. Her and Ginger were raised inside our house, from days old, to transition to a newly built (thank you, David) coop out back. As Rhode Island Reds, they are hearty, strong and great egg layers. They were sweet, gentle and allowed petting and holding generously. Little did we know they would become the leaders of our flock. They were the head hens, and worked together as a team. When we did decide to grow our flock and add more chickens, they readily accepted others into the group and led the way. I never thought about losing one. Never. My chickens will live forever, right?
Unfortunately, I learned what happens when the flock loses an alpha hen. Previously, as co-leaders, Ginger and Butterscotch would gently dominate and guide the flock. Hierarchy in a flock is an interesting phenomenon in the chicken world. What I noticed was the sicker Butterscotch got, the more everyone rallied around her. It's as if they knew, and they were there for her. I was amazed every time I witnessed it. Another issue was that Ginger was one of the "sicker" chickens, as well. The hierarchy of the flock made a natural progression of change. Ruby, a Rhode Island Red who was given to us by a friend, stepped up to the plate and took over the alpha role for the flock. She is a strong chicken, as she was the only chicken (in a friend's flock) who was left standing after several predator attacks. Even though she is a recent addition to our group of chickens, she's the one who told everybody else that "things would be okay". As Butterscotch passed and Ginger was still sick, it was Ruby who cheerfully, and kindly, took over the dynamics of the flock.
Then, as another few days went by, the chickens all started getting better, one by one. It was a miracle. This illness could have easily taken a hold of our entire flock to the point of no return. Instead, somehow the chickens were slowly improving. There was less coughing, and less audible breathing noises. The chickens were beginning to venture out of the barn again, and Ruby was leading the way. Ginger lagged behind in her recovery, but she did pull through. I worried about her so much. My heart could not take losing her, too. And she did it, she made it through. God spared our chickens, healed them, and is allowing us the opportunity to enjoy and cherish them.
As everyone began to improve, they begin to go about their normal daily activities again. They started free ranging outside, laying eggs and standing tall again. It warms my heart to see them outside, together, doing what chickens do. I am forever grateful to have my existing flock make it through this journey. Our loss is softened with the lives of the others spared.

I've learned many things from this experience:
1) That it's okay to take a chicken to the vet. Butterscotch's brave visit helped save all the others.
2) Chicken illnesses are quick to progress, and a whole flock can be gone in a matter of days.
3) TLC and warmth are invaluable in the recovery process, and cannot be underestimated.
4) My chickens are my world. They are each their own distinct self, and I love them all for who they are, more than ever. I smile every time I see them out and about.
5) I now know why people do not name their chickens. Chickens are fragile and can be gone in an instant. It's easier for people to not get "too close" to them emotionally.
6) I will always name my chickens.

And I thank everyone for their kindness and understanding while we walked through this dilemma together. Our story has a happy ending, and I'm so elated! Gratitude has no limit. My farm life continues, and with love, there is loss. As we celebrate the life given unto us, we do so with (of course) more chickens.

Welcome:
2 new Polish girlz, Thumbalina (missing a few toes) and Tinkerbelle.
3 new Silkies, Freckles, GiGi and Shadow (Shay Shay)

Yes, I'm that lady. That chicken lady,
Cyndi