Mr. B. made the chicks a nice condo on the floor of the coop with central heat a kitchen and play area (open concept design) and a swinging door that could be properly secured at night to keep out the undesirables in the neighborhood.
The days went by and they grew and ventured out on their own to the 'big' chicken run. Brace yourself for the horrid details, the story I couldn't tell you until now....Well, I looked out the kitchen window to check on everyone and saw two buzzards circling around above the run. If any of you know anything about rural living you know that is not a good sign. I ran out the back to see that the rooster had everyone in the small run by the coop (he thinks that is the only covered run) but the little Barred Rocks were running around frantically still in the big run. When I got to the gate I could see Goldie (not yet her name) caught up in the chicken wire fencing with a bloody neck and I presumed, dead. I hurried and got the two chicks in with the others and closed that run off so they would be safe as I didn't at that time know what killed her.
At this point I must tell you a bit about myself..I might live out most of my time here in rural land and I might clean out poopy chicken coops and help Mr. B. with projects etc...but I do not, and I repeat, I do not do, bloody, dead or alive, animals. So with that said, you know it took all I could do to go over and try to figure out what had killed her in the short amount of time between me checking on them (a bit obsessive about it). When I got there she started squawking and trying to get free but she was really intertwined and the back of her neck was peeled back and blood was all over....I ran in the house and got my scissors and ran back out (I know I shouldn't run with scissors but I did hold them properly if that counts) and as carefully as I could I cut her out, put her in a towel that I grabbed and called Mr. B. who hurried right home and took a good look at her and said that her scull was showing. Great! She was not bleeding anymore and didn't seem to be injured anywhere else so Mr. B. called our Vet and off I was sent to another Vet about 30 min. drive, two towns away with a wounded chick in a box....Wonderful. The drive seemed forever but when I got there the Vet said he had seen worse and could stitch her up good as new. I won't tell you how much the 'good as new' was, but that is the answer to your question, why we named her Goldie.
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