This is an old photo of Chicken Lazarus, just after I raised her from the dead.
Her mother, and all bar one of her siblings, had just been eaten by a young Tasmanian devil, and I’d found her cold, squashed, apparently dead on the ground in the broody box. For some reason, I decided she might somehow survive, and held her in my hands, breathing on her a bit to help warm her up. After about half an hour, there was a faint stirring. An eye opened, then a wing moved.
I put her down to make her some food, and when I turned back, this was what I saw.