Four and a Half Hens

How many do you have?  That's nearly alway the first question after most folks hear I have chickens. The answer is usually, "Five."  But the last month or so, the truth is, "Four and a half."

Petty coat showing on a tiny hen

We'd been away for ten days or so building a car port in Bend for our daughter.  Kind neighbors came twice a day to tend the five hens.  During that time a common but very strange-looking thing happened to my plumpest, most vigorous chicken.   Massive handfuls of feathers appeared in the coop.  Every morning they flowed out of the roost area.  Her caretaker was alarmed and removed the feathers.  She was nearly afraid to look for fear she would find a dead hen, naked and cold.

Grunge comes and goes in the fashion world,
but this style is never in.

Kate Perry Chicken, the most fashion conscious girl of the flock, was getting smaller and smaller.  By the time we came home, she was only half the size of the other hens and about a third of her own usual self.

But Nature is balanced, and all is well.  Kate is close to three quarters of herself again.  Soon her comb will be redder, her tail feathers tall, and plump will be her shape.  Things I get to do today will include counting my hens is whole, round numbers.

Not If You Need a Jacket!

What's the best day to skin the coop?  Not a snowy or windy day.  No, no, the extra protection around the chickens, that vinyl skin that keeps out the weather, needs to stay up to keep the girls comfortable. The careful Things I get to do today are to remove and pocket each and every staple and peal off the protective wrapping on the girls' accommodations.*

Fresh and airy once again.

Today and for the last week the hefty feather rompers that my hens wear were surely almost too warm. My two shirts were plenty. A long-sleeve T would have been enough. So where you live, do you skin the coop today? Not if you need a jacket!

*A note to all chicken keepers.   Zinc will kill a chicken. The galvanized water can is fine since the water does not leach out zinc. But a hen will peck at and eat anything.  They would eat a galvanized staple. I vowed that losing one hen to zinc a couple of years ago was one too many.

Dresses, a Bit Ragged and Torn

Holes and tatters in Nora Jones' garment.

They've lasted a year of 24/7 wear.  New ones are on the way.  My girls hope to look swell again for the holidays (probably not by Thanksgiving), and their new dresses will be the perfect thing.

Katy Perry Chicken looking far worse than last year's
Bad Hair months. 

Pin feathers will give way in a shower of milky dust to lush, strong feathers that will keep the girls warm for the winter season.




Today's rain has kept the hens in the shelter of the coop nearly all day. They're grateful to be loved, chicken pets instead of commercial turkeys.

And though one of the Things I get to do today is lay one of the hens to rest layered in straw and under the damp earth, I'm glad they are my pets as well. And Queen Latifah Hen, though now gone, no longer has to deal with faulty kidneys. All is well on the city farm.

Katy Did

She's got her groove back.  You saw Katy Perry Chicken when she first came to live on my urban farm.  Not long after, her looks began to slip as feathers forgot how to stay put and scattered themselves about the coop and hen pen.  Then one day, it was the worst.  All of Katy's head "hair" was gone.

Katy, freshly dressed for winter

Nothing stays the same, however.  If times are bad, they'll get better.  If things are good, they can get even better.  For Katy, feathers grow back after a molt.  It's not the end of the world.  Now Katy looks great: new hair do and sparkling new dress just in time for the real part of winter.






Of the Things I get to do today, I'm most intent on discovering which of my girls is/are laying eggs. So I've kept a vigil of sorts.  Through the family room windows it can be challenging to see who's actually missing (and presumably, therefore, on the nest) when two of the hens could pass for twins and the others are dark or grayish from a distance.

Katy's egg on the left: slender and not as pink

But today I paid "able-to-see-an-edible-bug-at-six-yards" (chickens' idea of "close") attention.  And Katy was the one not in the flock pecking grass.  Katy was the one not in the flock when it scratched under the tree.  Katy was flapping out of the cozy and nest box area a bit later. But nothing was in the nest box when it was checked between sky-falling rains.   An hour later,  Katy was not with the girls as they scratched under the marion-berries.  She was not with them as they checked a pile of weeds for slugs.  But shortly after, she flapped out of the nest for a second time.  This time for sure I knew the answer to which hen laid this egg:  Katy did.

From Bad to Worse

I'm starting to feel sorry for the rich and famous.  Having all of ones worst moments investigated and published, and even more horrible, having the most difficult and private times documented with glossy photographs for the whole world to see has to be the pits.  (I'm even considering feeling sorry for you, Kim.)

Famous chicken-person, Miss Katy Perry Chicken, thinks one of the Things I get to do today is making life miserable for her.  As you all know from the recent post "Chicken Hair," hens have long-term unglamorous periods called molting.  It was photo documented that she had lost a whole chunk of her "hair" just above her neck in the back.  And today I (the paparazzi) am following her around the hen pen, popping out from behind plants and structures to catch a gosh-awful shot of her latest disaster hair-do.  With only pin feathers covering her whole head and neck and closely resembling a turkey vulture, she is definitely sporting the latest hair-don't.

Katy turning away from the camera  to escape the glare of publicity,
her scrappy-looking head and neck clearly visible.

Ducking behind the crowd of other better-and-more-sleekly-coifed girls

"Sparse" they called it in The Times.

The Observer noted it was "prickly."

"No comment" pled The Herald.

The Oregonian: "We've seen better do's.  Look's like she's seen better days."

But for the fashion conscious, like Katy's we know, this one included, there is hope.
Right in the middle of the back of her head are two or three feathers that have
sprung loose from their tight, pin structure.  A week from now her head will
be covered with brand-new, luxurious feathers.  Forget Paris, London or New York.
This is the latest look.

Chicken Hair

I seem to be losing chickens lately.  Sometimes it is a slow decline in health, and then the chicken is gone (Nora #2).   Sometimes it is a hungry, wild critter, and then the chicken is gone (Gwyneth).  Sometimes it is one or two or twenty feathers at a time (Katy), and then:  the chicken is molting and will, eventually, grow back.  In the mean time, in the Things I get to do today is "find a new hairdresser for Katy Chicken."

Beautiful Katy with her pretty, pointy tail

Miss Katy Perry Chicken came to live with us nearly three weeks ago now.  Dark hair, white skin, red lips--I was certain this chicken was a Katy.  She was glamorous and gorgeous as well as sweet in voice and style.

I was startled a few days after her arrival by a stunning black and white feather in the hen pen that seemed to be hers.  Several days later there were puffs of feathers in every corner that looked more like her than any of the other hens.  Her tail was the first to go. What was once a proud exclamation point at the backside of her fluffy silhouette was now only a question mark, a short one at that.

Where, oh where has my pretty tail gone?

Looks like someone took a big "chop" out of the back of her neck "hair"
 leaving an ungraceful gap between "hair line" and shoulders.  Pin
feathers are visible behind her ear and at the base of her neck.

Tail feathers are not needed to keep a hen warm so I didn't give it much thought.  But when I returned from being out of town this past week, Katy looked like she'd had an appointment with a demented hairdresser resulting in a bad hair day that will, no doubt, drag on for several weeks.






Fortunately for this Katy, she doesn't care how she looks, though I'm sure she can feel a chilly draft at the back of her neck.  I may need to knit Miss Katy Perry Chicken a little scarf until the pin feathers grow out and can keep her neck warm again--put that on the list of Things I get to do today.  A red one, don't you think?