When u/snow_banksy's neighbor handed over eleven chickens and a diagnosis of vent gleet, she didn't just pass along feathered friends, she passed along a test of nerve. And honestly? We see you, snow_banksy. You're standing in a coop with a sick bird, a neighbor packing boxes, and Google telling you to give a chicken a bath. That's not a to-do list. That's a recipe for panic with a side of "am I doing this right?"
Your neighbor did you a solid by identifying the problem, but she left you hanging on the how-to. Vent gleet is gross, yes, it's a fungal infection around the vent that can look like crusty, smelly chaos. The good news: it is not transmissible to humans, so you can breathe easy. No, you won't grow a comb or start laying eggs. The bad news: your chicken needs a spa day she didn't ask for. Bathing a chicken is exactly as awkward as it sounds. Fill a sink or tub with lukewarm water, not hot, not cold, and add a splash of mild soap (think Dawn, not lavender essential oils). Gently lower the chicken in, supporting her chest, and use your hand to work the gunk off her vent. Rinse thoroughly, because soap residue is not a conditioner. Dry her with a towel, keep her warm, and quarantine her in a clean, draft-free space like a dog crate or a spare cardboard box with bedding. She'll hate every second. You'll hate every second. But she'll recover.
For the long game: stop cleaning the coop "every few weeks." Vent gleet thrives in damp, dirty bedding, and your neighbor's routine was probably too lax. You don't need a PhD in poultry science, just scoop the poop more often, replace bedding weekly, and check vents when you change water. A probiotic supplement in their feed can also help balance gut flora. Your other ten chickens are fine now, but keep an eye out for any vent redness or pasty bottoms. Catching it early turns a nightmare into a mild inconvenience.
What we'd tell you directly: you're not a bad chicken parent for not knowing this. You're a human who said yes to eleven lives and a neighbor's trust. The quirk of this community, our community, is that we've all been exactly where you are, standing in a coop with a sick bird and a phone full of conflicting advice. So here's your concrete next step: quarantine that chicken tonight, bathe her tomorrow morning, and then go thank your moving neighbor for the heads-up. She gave you a gift wrapped in panic, but it's still a gift, you learned before the bird died. That's a win in the fowl playbook.