‘Why not best?’

Every time a new batch of baby chicks arrives, it’s like watching a seed germinate. A cardboard package of life’s promise — that peeps! And so it was that December day when I drove my peeping box back home from the Chester Post Office.

It would be my fifth season raising chicks. I’ve found brooding them over the winter makes the busy planting season less stressful. And if I time it right, gets me eggs by springtime.

With a good dose of confidence and anticipation about what this newest batch of heritage breed layers would bring to the homestead, I opened up the box to see eight pom-pom looking chicks clustered together to keep warm. I had ordered a few new breeds this year — a Bielefelder and a Blue Birchen Marans — known for their chocolate brown colored eggs — as well as breeds already in my flock, including a very sleepy looking Welsummer chick. It was a long journey from the hatchery, I thought.

It was the start of the winter break, so I had plenty of time to lean over the side of the brooder, bathed in the orange glow of the heat lamp, watching the little pom-poms sweetly nod off mid-meal or pile on top of each other like the seals on San Francisco pier as they slumbered. The sleepy Welsummer was often on her own and appeared to have an S-shaped curve to her neck. As she grew over that first week, somewhat slower than the rest of the brood, her head hung low and off to the side.

A quick search of my online backyard chicken-keeping forums revealed a condition known as wry neck, also known as crooked neck, twisted neck or torticollis. Adult chickens with this condition are often referred to as “stargazers” because of the way their twisted necks make them look up at the sky. In all my years raising chicks, this was the first time I had encountered the condition, or any issue with a chick for that matter.

Wry neck can have a number of causes: head injury, nutritional deficiency, neurological disorder or a range of diseases. Certain breeds like Polish chickens or Silkies can be more susceptible because they lack the protection of a hard skull. But in chicks as young as this, most often it’s a vitamin deficiency, specifically vitamin E and selenium, or so I first thought, and could be reversed with supplements.

How much and what form? Did I need special chicken supplements? No matter how much I read, the answer was never definitive. So I tried syringing egg yolk into her beak to start, followed by vitamin E and selenium paste made for goats (pro tip: a toothpick with the paste on the end works well for tiny beaks), followed by Nutri-Drench, followed by Rooster Booster.

What started as a cozy, winter holiday pastime had turned into a full-on ICU. Every day I watched the Welsummer intently. Was any of it working? At two-and-a-half weeks old, she was clearly not as developed as the other chicks, who were running circles around her. And when she herself started running in circles — but backwards — I needed to make a choice.

Was this something that could be “cured” with vitamins, or something more serious, like an ear infection, requiring a vet visit? And as any chicken keeper will tell you, as much as we care for our chickens, a hefty vet bill is always a headscratcher.

I consulted a few friends who were experienced chicken keepers. “Wry neck? Nope, never heard of it.” One had a friend who grew up raising chickens and said it was a survivable condition. Survivable, yes, but thrivable? The chicken coop is a shark tank. The weak do not usually make it.

After a good dose of deliberation, and chatting it through with Mom, I decided one evening that it would be better for the chick long-term if I put her down. I was not happy with the decision, but it had to be done, I said. It was best for everyone.

As I held her in my palms to feed her the vitamin E paste one last time — in the faint hope that an extra-large dose might miraculously fix her — her eyes opened wide and she snapped on that toothpick like a monster.

Had I given up on her too quickly? Had I truly done my best for her?

As I stroked her little head attempting to say my goodbyes, the question of “best” kept pulling at me. A friend had recently told me about the late President Jimmy Carter’s autobiography, Why Not Best?

The title comes from a question Admiral Hyman Rickover asked Carter during a job interview, following his graduation from the Naval Academy. Carter had graduated in the top 10 percent of his class and Rickover asked him a simple question, “Did you do your best?”

Carter initially answered “Yes sir” but after some thought said, “No sir, I didn’t always do my best.” Describing the scene years later, Carter wrote, “He asked one final question which I have never been able to forget or to answer. He said, ‘Why not?’”

I asked myself the same question. And like Jimmy Carter, I couldn’t say I had done my absolute best for the little Welsummer. Over the next few weeks, I learned more about the role of vitamin B, specifically B1 (thiamine) in muscle development for young chicks, and made sure she was getting a higher protein feed than usual, syringe-fed with yolks from some leftover goose eggs. I wrapped her up like a burrito at night so she’d actually sleep versus running in backward circles.

Slowly, the little Welsummer, which at this point I was calling Star (I stopped naming them years ago), had started to grow. Her eyes were looking brighter, she could support herself on her larger legs. When she slept, she actually trilled, the equivalent of a chicken purr.

Star lived for about 8 weeks. In the end, she needed more care than I could provide. But had I done my absolute best? I could now answer yes, and know that the lessons this chick had taught me would last well beyond her short life.

Venjara is the founder of the Falaha Center for Spiritual Agriculture in Chester, NY.