Copyright 2026, DeeLayne Roark McCoy
Sweet little Meredith (Grey) was just doing her normal little chicken things when all of a sudden, a space appeared beneath the edge of the coop that hadn’t been there a moment before. Her curiosity got the better of her, so she stretched her neck out, and stuck her head through the gap. And then the gap abruptly closed on her neck; poor little Meredith was accidentally killed. Farmer Shawn quietly removed her body from the chicken yard.
There is an unused chicken house in the barn, and thinking that he would go back and bury her later, Shawn laid her body in the nest, closed the door, and then forgot he had done that. I didn’t know about any of this, until four days later, when Farmer Shawn came running into the kitchen, hollering, “She’s alive! She’s alive! Come quick!” And then he took off back to the barn, leaving me to follow, tripping over myself in my hurry to pull on my boots. I had no idea who or what was alive.
Shawn was utterly incomprehensible as he was trying to explain what happened. I tuned him out, though, because here was Meredith, alive, with the most awful neck tremor you can imagine. Our chicken had awakened from a coma. I sat a bowl of water before her immediately, but she couldn’t get her neck to cooperate, and she couldn’t get a drink. So I held her in one arm, and the bowl in the other hand, and helped her get some water in her. Meredith wasn’t able to eat, either, and even when I tried the same approach, she couldn’t get any solid food down.
That’s when I got creative. I ran in the house, and threw a handful of greens in the blender, added some raw honey, and a little splash of noni juice, and hit the button. I poured my concoction into a Mason jar, and headed back to the barn. I was able – with a lot of patient, careful trying – to help her get some of the green juice into her body. We repeated this several times a day for the better part of a week, until one day, she refused the juice. I added a little bit of chicken food to the bowl to make a mash, and she tore into it. Just like that, she was back on solid food, even if I did have to mix it with some juice for her.
As the weeks went by, she got better at eating and drinking independently, and Shawn made her some bottom heavy bowl holders so she couldn’t accidentally knock over her food and water. We watched her steadily improve, until you couldn’t really tell the difference between her and the other chickens, unless you watched her neck very carefully, and knew what you were looking for. She even started laying eggs, which chickens don’t do if they’re not healthy.
Today, Meredith is our funniest chicken, and she still likes to investigate the food bucket and try a sample when we go out to feed her in the mornings. I think it’s because she got used to eating from a bowl I held for her when she was healing, and now it’s just our thing. Sometimes, patience, a little extra care, and the willingness to try are all somebody needs to heal and thrive. And sometimes, it just looks like a miracle.
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