Rosie, Our Rhode Island Red (April 2009-January 2011)

We’ve lost one of our beloved hens. She acted a bit lethargic for the past week but continued to eat and drink and get up on the roost with her flockmates. We thought she might be beginning to molt. Then yesterday, when we returned home in the afternoon, she was lying in the damp dirt along the edge of the outdoor run. Don brought her into the house and we wrapped her in a towel. While I was holding her and stirring electrolytes into a cup of water to give to her, she gasped twice and died in my arms. I’m heartbroken. I put her, still wrapped in the towel, in a little cage in the laundry room for an hour believing that she may revive and get up and surprise us all. But alas, she did not. We buried Rosie near the grave of our old chocolate lab and marked her grave with a large river rock.

Rosie did not have the easiest chicken life. She has always been at the bottom of the pecking order. This meant that she was chased away from the finest of treats and was the last to be allowed to get up on the roost at night. A piece of her comb was missing from an exceptionally hard peck and some of the feathers on her head were gone.

Granddaughter Carolyn and Rosie

But Rosie was a resilient little thing. She was first up on our laps. She kept her eyes glued on the house during the day hoping we would emerge with a bowl of scraps in our hands. She was quick to grab a worm or snail that was thrown into the outdoor run. Grandchildren loved her and even strangers could easily pick her up.

It is hard to know why a hen less than two years old would die for no obvious reason. After her death, we examined her to see if we could identify the cause of her death. She had a yellow discharge from her vent as did Daisy when an egg broke inside her. This disease, that kills so many “high egg producers”, is called “egg peritonitis”. Had she shown more symptoms or acted really sick, I might have been able to treat her and save her life. If only…..if only……If only.

Along with the joy of having loved pets in our lives comes the inevitable sadness and loss. This simple creature enriched our lives, made us laugh, and provided us with hundreds of her beautiful eggs. Thank you and farewell, dear Rosie.

Draining Rainwater from the Outdoor Run

It has been an eventful holiday season in the ole chicken coop. Heavy rains along the coast brought unexpected flooding. We live on a slight downslope. Water drains from the forested open space behind our property and on down the hill. Standing water has never been a problem but, then again, we’ve never had 10 inches of rain in such a short amount of time. During the heavy rains, the empty gopher holes looked like little springs with clear water bubbling up and out. Wonder where the gophers are hiding?

Making its way downward to the ocean, the water spread across the outdoor run and stayed there. It was two inches deep in areas. The hens spent much of their time on the milk crates and the ladder. Luckily, the indoor coop has a cement floor that stayed high and dry but these birds are used to being outside and only go inside to lay and to roost at night. For two days, they waded about in confusion. Eventually we made a small trench through the outdoor run that provided an escape route for the sitting water.

Ameraucana and Buff Orpington are Laying Again!

The good news in the chicken coop had us all cheering (even the hens). Our dear Daisy, a pretty Buff Orpinton, was ill last spring. See “Daisy is Ill”. She hasn’t layed since then. Daisy is one of my favorite hens: gentle, tame, calm. I consider her a pet. After her first molt in the fall, she began laying those beautiful brown eggs again. I think that she is as happy as we are. Tulip, the Ameraucana, also finished her molt and has resumed laying her green eggs once again. What a pleasure to find those lovely pale green eggs among the brown.

Golden Laced Wyandotte is Molting

There are more falling feathers in the mud of the chicken coop. Petunia is experiencing her first molt. The golden laced Wyandotte, the prettiest and the meanest of the six, is shedding her golden fleece. She and Sweetpea mope around, listless and lethargic, with bare bottoms and necks, waiting for their new coats to grow in. When they do, they’ll look renewed and refreshed and will hopefully resume laying again. We’ll all be happy, then.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh Yukk! The hens’ run is a mess! We’ve had light rain for seven days straight and the ground is saturated. Most of the run is covered with lucite panels but the ground is soaked. Poor hens are walking around in mud. They’ve been using their ladder more than usual to get up off the ground. Don filled some of the holes created by dust bathing in the run to try to get it to drain off but it is still quite mucky. I spread a bit of alfalfa around this afternoon to soak up some moisture.

Rain has obscured the view of the Pacific

Chickens are incredible resistant to weather. While I am complaining about a little steady rain, back East the chickens are wading around in snow. In cold climates many people raise only chickens (like our Wyandottes) that have smaller curly combs on top of their heads (called rose combs). Smaller combs mean that less comb is exposed to the  freezing temperatures in the winter. I’ve seen a few of our hens tuck their heads under their wings to sleep. Kind of like pulling blackout shades, warming your comb, and warming the air you breath all at the same time. Clever girls!

Local wild turkeys are soaked in the rain

Our California wild turkey neighbors have found a vacant lot to hang out in. At least our hens have a cute little henhouse to hide in should the weather get worse.

Wishing you all a happy, joyful, and festive holiday! May your tootsies stay warm and dry.

.

.

.

.

.

.

One of my sons checks in on my hens on occasion. He emailed me to say the I hadn’t posted anything lately. I answered that not much was happening in the henhouse. Most of the six hens show signs of molting (loosing their feathers and growing new ones) and aren’t laying eggs. In fact, we’ve only been getting about one egg per day and it looks to be from the same hen. You see, all their eggs look slightly different. They have different shapes and are different colors so we can tell who is laying and who isn’t.

Barred Rock Molting-Pinfeathers are Growing in

Molting is a yearly occurrence for most breeds of chickens. Feathers are made of keratin, a kind of protein, and the annual transformation of shedding and replacement takes its toll on the hen’s physical condition and disposition. When the hens molt, their combs shrink and become a pale pink.  Some hens experience a change in personality, becoming unusually cranky. Molting could go on through January so I’ll have to forgo omelets until the hens are back in form.

Our hens are approaching two years of age now. Several are going through their second molt. Tulip, the Ameraucana, is one that has molted twice. Her molts seem to last forever. She stops laying those pretty green eggs for a couple of months. Sweetpea, the barred rock, is also suffering (I mean experiencing) her second year of molting. Sweetpea, is a good layer and I miss her large, rather long, light-brown eggs. Sweetpea is one of our most affectionate hens. She jumps onto our laps and tucks herself into the crook of our arms and settles in for an extended stay. Last fall, when she first molted she wouldn’t let us touch her. I read that when birds molt, the incoming new feathers make the skin sensitive to the touch. This year, though Sweetpea is a little stand-offish in her molt, she still has enjoyed some gentle handling.

Sweetpea's bare bottom

Daisy, the Buff Orpington, needed to molt. Her light flaxen plumage had become ragged and dull. I can’t wait to see Daisy in her new feathers. Rosie, the Rhode Island Red, has stopped laying and dropped a few feathers here and there. I see her growing some back on the bare spots on her head that the other hens had denuded. I think that Rosie will be one of those hens that does not fully molt. They say that the better layers molt less and for a shorter length of time and I think that Rosie is one of those. Luckily, we have temperate winters here on the Central Coast. My poor hens are walking around with bare bottoms and naked necks. Hopefully they’ll be strutting their new look soon.

.

.

.

.

.

.