Oh, we have *thoughts* on this one, and they start with a firm, feather-ruffling opinion: you do not have to be your chicken's best friend to be her hero. This poor Ameraucana is getting pecked to pieces, can barely see out of one eye, and is so stressed by human hands that she screams like you're performing fowl play. And yet, you've already done more than most would. You isolated her, fed her a sunny-side egg, cleaned the coop, and checked for mites. That is not "letting nature take its course." That is a rescue mission in progress, even if it feels like a cluck-tastic disaster.
We've been here before, in a way. Remember when When the Egg-citement Fades: My Feathered Friends Are Now Fowl Play showed us that the shiny thrill of chicken-keeping can curdle into a stressful social drama? And Odard the rooster is getting cocky: and we've got little kids to protect reminded us that sometimes our feathered friends become feathered frenemies? This situation is the same vibe, but flipped: the bully isn't a rooster, it's the whole flock, and the victim is fading fast. The key difference here is that this hen isn't aggressive, she's terrified. And that changes the game.
Here's the concrete takeaway, stated plainly: a chicken that hates you can still be saved, but you have to stop trying to be her buddy and start being her anonymous caretaker. That screaming fit when you carried her? That's not personal, it's prey instinct. So lean into it. Build a secure, predator-proof hospital pen inside the coop or garage (a dog crate works wonders) where she can eat, drink, and heal without being touched. Give her a week of quiet, hands-off recovery with clean water, high-protein feed, and maybe some electrolytes. If her skin is that scaly and pale from pecking and sun, she needs shade and time, not more handling. You already ruled out mites, and her bright comb and alertness mean she's not giving up yet. So don't you give up either.
The real question here isn't whether she'll ever love you, she won't, and that's fine. The question is whether you can handle the discomfort of being the villain in her story while being her only shot at a comeback. That's hard. That's the part nobody warns you about when you buy those first egg-citing chicks. But if you can set up a safe space, ignore her screams, and let her body heal without forcing a relationship, you might just watch a half-blind, bald-bottomed hen turn back into a bird with fight left in her. And if she doesn't? At least you didn't let the coyotes decide her fate. That's not a small thing.