I made her as comfortable as possible. I checked her frequently. She only seemed slower, lower, worse. But she hung in there. Finally, Little Debbie would have no more of Penny's isolation booth... she kept finding a way in, and stood by Penny in a gentle, uncharacteristically tender fashion. After a week with a hen looking everyday closer to death's door, I was cautiously speculating... was Penny pulling through? I let her out of confinement. She was no longer swollen and distended. She was tinier than ever. She couldn't jump even three inches off the ground, so her roosting days seemed behind her. It was sad watching her try to get herself up there.
She really is a plucky little hen, a very lucky Penny. And I feel pretty lucky, too.