A few days ago, Brett and I noticed that one of our Rhode Island Red chickens wasn't able to walk. She was lying in the middle of the chicken run and, at first, it just looked like she was taking a sun bath in the dirt. She was bright eyed, looking around with no sign of lethargy. Then she tried to move which was a kind of flop forward and drag motion.
During the day, she managed to maneuver herself to the water and yesterday she actively pecked at the food I sprinkled in front of her. The other hens didn't harass her; she seemed content; we crossed our fingers and left her alone.
This morning, she pulled herself up to standing and hopped forward on her good leg. Then she rested. I watched her do this a few times. She ate with gusto (salad greens and mango peelings in the chicken pail this morning). I thought of Ahab, with his peg leg, searching for Moby Dick. Voila! This chicken has a new name. She's a fighter, a survivor. Heck, she even managed to lay an egg!