The day-to-day task of caring for our four hens is fairly predictable. Chickens are creatures of habit. “The girls” rise at the crack of dawn, immediately wolf down their breakfast and then strut around their pen all day in search of wayward worms and other delicacies. They lay their eggs in their nest boxes, hop up and down with joy whenever someone shows up with snacks, and troop back into the coop at night to roost.
So I was taken aback by the novelty of what I saw the other day when I showed up at the pen with a late-morning treat of mealworms, kale and late-season raspberries from our garden. But more on that in a minute.
Snow, our Plymouth Rock, is molting. This is a normal, supposedly annual, process during which a chicken loses some, most or all of its feathers and grows new ones. It isn’t pretty, especially if a hen’s neck or butt goes bare almost overnight, but such is life on Planet Chicken.
As a result of Snow’s molt, the pen is littered with white feathers whose shelf life has expired. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing this of late, but the molt took an unusual turn on the day in question when I popped out to the pen with those snacks that I mentioned earlier.
Sure enough, a smattering of white feathers covered the ground in the pen. No surprise there. All four hens clucked, squawked and jumped excitedly as they awaited their treats. Nothing out of the ordinary there either. But then I noticed that Nala, our Barred Rock, had donned a new accessory.
Nala is not molting. She remains fully feathered. Her feathers have alternating black and white bands, so there’s no mistaking her for the all-white Snow. That’s why the long, brilliantly white feather that pointed skyward from her bum was so eye-catching. She looked like a comical excuse for a peacock, with a lone feather in her display, and a monochromatic one at that. (No, I didn't have a camera.)
God only knows how one of Snow’s discards affixed itself to Nala’s nether regions. My guess is that a stray bit of poop may have doubled as an adhesive. But I didn’t go in for a closer look to test my theory. Curiosity has its limits.
So I was taken aback by the novelty of what I saw the other day when I showed up at the pen with a late-morning treat of mealworms, kale and late-season raspberries from our garden. But more on that in a minute.
Snow, our Plymouth Rock, is molting. This is a normal, supposedly annual, process during which a chicken loses some, most or all of its feathers and grows new ones. It isn’t pretty, especially if a hen’s neck or butt goes bare almost overnight, but such is life on Planet Chicken.
As a result of Snow’s molt, the pen is littered with white feathers whose shelf life has expired. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing this of late, but the molt took an unusual turn on the day in question when I popped out to the pen with those snacks that I mentioned earlier.
Sure enough, a smattering of white feathers covered the ground in the pen. No surprise there. All four hens clucked, squawked and jumped excitedly as they awaited their treats. Nothing out of the ordinary there either. But then I noticed that Nala, our Barred Rock, had donned a new accessory.
Nala is not molting. She remains fully feathered. Her feathers have alternating black and white bands, so there’s no mistaking her for the all-white Snow. That’s why the long, brilliantly white feather that pointed skyward from her bum was so eye-catching. She looked like a comical excuse for a peacock, with a lone feather in her display, and a monochromatic one at that. (No, I didn't have a camera.)
God only knows how one of Snow’s discards affixed itself to Nala’s nether regions. My guess is that a stray bit of poop may have doubled as an adhesive. But I didn’t go in for a closer look to test my theory. Curiosity has its limits.
 |
| Snow and Nala (before Nala started wearing Snow's "clothes.") |
No comments:
Post a Comment