The delicacy and tenacity of a tiny life.

When Starboard finally arose from the nest after her latest clutch hatched, we discovered one little brown chick not doing so well. The last to hatch, maybe it was a little premature. Maybe it got chilled as it emerged, since mom was already busy with the three older chicks. While its three siblings bopped around, fluffy and beeping, this one sprawled helplessly in the detritus of the nest, amid broken shells and the extra stinky poop bombs a broody hen leaves behind. We opened the cage to start cleaning up the mess, upsetting Starboard (who is a particularly intense mom), and in her protective flurry she trompled the weak chick.

We successfully extracted the baby, which seemed a little chilled, and not in control of its muscles. I gave it to a friend to hold and warm while I cleaned out the nest and put in some fresh hay and starter crumbles.

And when my friend opened his hands so we could examine the rescued chick, it popped off his palm like a jumping bean and plopped four feet to the ground. Thankfully, gravity is merciful on the little creatures, and it seemed no worse off than before.

So we brought the poor wee mite inside, put it on a heating pad, left it to warm up. So tiny, so frail, it slept like a dead thing for nearly 24 hours. Since we lumber all of Starboard’s children with the nautical names, and because life-drop kicked this one into existence, we named it Punt. During that first day I was equally sure each time I checked that Punt would die any second, and that Punt would be fine. Optimistically, because it would be annoying to expend all this rescue effort for a rooster, we decided Punt is a pullet. Her troubles seemed neurological, so we hoped she would get better as she grew up. Gradually, she found her feet--not without some drama, like a near-death tumble into her water bowl--and I succumbed to the charm of her exceptional effort to live, and the scary, rigor mortis abandon of her sleep. After 36 hours, to my great relief, she started showing interest in food and water. After 48, she was able to motivate around her box, although at first her walk was more of a semi-controlled tumble.

She’s nearly a week old today, and we’re thinking we might be able to re-introduce her to her family tonight or tomorrow. She interested in everything, and moving around pretty well, though she remains a bit unsteady on her pins.

Little Punt’s first week has been especially poignant to me, coinciding as it has with the week I underwent laproscopic abdominal surgery. Watching her struggle and try, rest and explore, she seems to exude a perfect trust in her world, and her process. We’re getting better together.