There's no gentle way to say this: your hen is in trouble, and the clock is ticking in a way that feels a lot less like a cozy farmhouse and a lot more like a horror movie where the protagonist keeps checking the time. Egg binding, or a broken egg stuck in the oviduct, is one of those emergencies where "wait and see" is a gamble you don't want to take with a living creature who already won't eat or drink. We're not veterinarians, and we're not going to pretend otherwise, but the combination of fluid oozing from her vent, four hours of visible distress, and a total refusal of food and water screams "this needs professional help now," not "let's see what the morning brings."
You did the right things: the warm bath was a solid instinct, even if she acted like you were trying to baptize her in a vat of betrayal. Fifteen minutes of that is better than nothing, but the fact that she's still slow and leaking means the obstruction isn't budging. And we get the vent-check hesitation. Trying to inspect a hen's rear end when she's already stressed is like trying to perform a dental exam on a raccoon with a toothache. It's not going to end well for anyone. But here's the hard truth we have to cluck about: a broken egg inside can lead to peritonitis, which is as awful as it sounds, and that's not something that politely waits for office hours. We've seen plenty of panicked posts in our community, from Solo chick got your nerves scrambled? Here's the cluck-tastic game plan to the feathery freakout of My silkie's comb tripled overnight: is this fowl play or a feathery freakout?, and the common thread is that when something's off, our instinct is to hope it's a phase. This isn't a phase. This is a plumbing emergency.
So what do you actually do tonight? First, call that emergency vet back and explain the symptoms again, specifically the fluid and the lethargy. If they still say tomorrow, ask if they can at least prescribe something over the phone or recommend an avian vet who does after-hours calls. Second, keep her warm, quiet, and separated from the flock, because a stressed hen in pain is a target for pecking, and that's the last thing she needs. Third, do not attempt any more vent checks or egg extractions on your own. We know you're brave, but you're also not a surgeon, and a ruptured egg can cause internal damage that your fingers will only make worse. The Rooster Rumble: When Your Feathered Friends Need a New Flock taught us that sometimes the hardest part of chicken keeping is knowing when to step in and when to step back.
Here's the specific takeaway, and we mean it directly: if she's still leaking fluid and refusing water by the time you read this, do not wait for that morning appointment. Drive to the nearest emergency clinic, even if it's for small animals, and let them at least assess her. The cost of a "maybe" visit is far less than the cost of burying a hen you could have saved. And watch for one detail in particular: if the fluid turns yellow or smells foul, that's the infection signal, and it changes everything. You're not chickening out by asking for help. You're being the best kind of chicken parent, the one who knows that sometimes love means a very expensive, very stressful car ride at midnight.