Oh, we feel this one in our bones, and in our coop boots. There's something uniquely gutting about watching a normally feisty hen turn into a little feathered lump of despair. You did the right thing taking her to the vet. Water belly is no joke, and you knew it was a symptom, not the problem itself. That's not being paranoid; that's being a good chicken parent. But now you're stuck in the worst part: the aftermath. She's been drained, poked, medicated, and she's decided the world is too much. We've been there, and it's a special kind of helplessness when you're offering egg yolk and mashed feed and she just stares at you like you've betrayed her.
Here's the thing about chickens: they're dramatic little dinosaurs with a talent for making you panic. A vet visit is traumatic for them, new smells, strange hands, a cold table, and then a needle? That's enough to make any sensible bird go on strike. You've already done the hard part by getting her professional care. Now you're in the tender, frustrating phase where your job shifts from hero to stubborn cheerleader. She might not want to eat because she's sore, stressed, or just plain tired. The antibiotics and pain reliever can also mess with her appetite. Don't take her refusal personally, she's not rejecting you, she's rejecting the whole miserable experience.
What you can do is keep the pressure low and the temptation high. Try offering a tiny bit of plain yogurt or scrambled egg right under her beak, warm, soft, and impossible to ignore. If she still won't take it, dip her beak gently in water mixed with a little electrolyte powder or honey. Sometimes they need a reminder that eating is a thing. And if she won't move? That's fine for now. Let her rest in a quiet, dim spot away from the flock pecking order. Check her every hour, but don't hover, chickens sense stress. You're not failing if she's still sluggish tomorrow; recovery from a serious procedure can take a couple of days. The real worry is if she's still refusing all food and water after 48 hours. That's when you call the vet back.
So here's what we'd tell a reader who came to us with this same story: you are not alone, and you are not overreacting. You're in the trenches of chicken parenthood, and it's messy and scary and full of tiny victories. Keep offering, keep watching, and give her tomorrow. If she rallies, you'll know you pulled her through. If she doesn't, you'll know you tried everything with love. Either way, you showed up for her when it mattered. That's the whole cluck-tastic point.