The good news is the little hen is back in the community cage and being a bird. Her leg is a little crooked, but she can sit on the perch and take off and land and do her birdie thing.
Several weeks ago I took a glass of wine out to the back deck (where I have signal) and punched the number my sleuthing cuz found for me, took a deep breath, and pressed send. He: Hello? Me: Is this John Sanders W*****? He: (suspiciously) Yes. Me: John Henry, is it really you? This is Lenore Kelly. He: ohmygod. He was my first real boyfriend, my senior year in high school. We did all the high school stuff and had a great time. Then we went to different colleges, he flunked out, and I dumped him. He joined the Navy, and I lost track of him. He's a high school biology teacher, kids, Mormon, living on his wife's family farm in the frozen Midwest, working with Indian kids. I bet he looks just like his father. I thanked him for making my last year of high school so memorable, and he said he, too, got to do stuff with me he didn't get to do at his school. It was nice. I gave him my e-mail address, he said he'd write, and we said goodbye. I didn't hear back from him, but I got to close the loop and thank him for being there. Have a good, long life, John Henry.