On our little half acre plot of earth in the suburbs we have two hens. They live in a dog kennel with a home-made coop inside, just big enough for a couple of nests and a roost. Their names are Crow (the Barred Rock) and Lizzy (short for Elizabeth, after the queen she resembles with her fabulous ruff; the Ameraucana). Several months ago Crow stopped laying eggs and became rather "puffy" making it hard for her to walk. Yesterday, she was so lethargic and droopy that I decided something needed to be done. But surely, no vet would see a chicken, right? Well, after calling several offices I found one who would gladly take on a new avian patient! Dr. Harris kindly examined Crow (commenting that she must be having an identity crisis) and after aspirating some of the fluid from her middle, concluded that she has congestive heart failure. Now you may be thinking, "Of course, the only solution would be to put her to sleep." But, after an eighty dollar bill for the office visit, Crow has a prescription for a diuretic and instructions to keep her warm. The good doctor says he sees a goose who has lived quite comfortably for five years now with the same diagnosis. Miss Crow is certainly an expensive pet now; we're hoping she'll start laying golden eggs from now on. Mr. Browning had some mixed feelings when I brought the bird home from her appointment and told him the prognosis. He kept shaking his head incredulously and exclaimed, "How am I supposed to keep a chicken warm?!"