You know its bound to happen. Baby chicks are delicate. They can go from frolicking to fading within hours. Knowing it, and watching it are two different things.
He was smaller from the get go. (We called him “he”.) I noticed the first day that he fell over some and was a little unsteady. While the other chicks almost doubled in size over night, he stayed tiny. Then he stopped drinking. Then he stopped eating. I moved quickly, but it wasn’t enough. I kept him warm, petted him and loved him. I checked on him several times until finally at 4:15 this morning saw that his suffering was over. What a fighter. (There should be an angel assigned to animals. One that carries their little souls away, right away. No suffering.)
So, on the agenda today:
Toss the medicine dropper
Clean the dishes that held sugar water and moistened chick mash.
A little funeral for our little fighter that Jacob named Toby Mac.
Bye, bye birdie.