Hector had a bad day on Sunday. We went out for a few hours in the afternoon, and returned to find Hector bloody and torn - specifically, his comb. After some expert CSI work by Kim the next day, we think the injury happened when he got his comb caught in the wire during a through-the-fence duel with Peewee.
Whatever the cause, we came home to Hector cowering on the roof of the nest-box shelter, shaking the dripping blood out of his eyes.
We scooped him up and brought him into the house for patching up and TLC. We cleaned up the mess, found the tear, cleaned it some more, and dabbed it liberally with antibiotic ointment, and through it all Hector stayed calm and patient and didn't try to peck us once.
He spent the night in a cage in the infirmary (otherwise known as the yet-to be-finished powder room), which meant we woke in the morning to the distinctive sound of his Baroquely ornamented bass crow coming from downstairs. What a lovely alarm clock.
One night in the infirmary was all it took. To welcome him back to the chicken yard, Kim treated everyone to a round of fresh spinach in the new hanging feeders she fashioned from thrift store grilling baskets.