The aptly named Snow (our white Plymouth Rock hen) is creating her own blizzard in the pen now that she's molting, as you can see from this photo taken yesterday afternoon. All that white stuff on the ground? Yup. Feathers.
Snow has been molting for about a week now. She has sizable bare spots and is noticeably smaller than usual, a reminder that feathers account for much of a chicken's presumed size. Snow looks rather shabby up close, especially on her neck, wings and tail. (In fact, she insisted on no closeups. What? You didn't know chickens are vain?) The good news is that her baldness is patchy and new pin feathers are coming in. Nellie and Hope, the Rhode Island Reds, have not begun to molt . . . yet.
I wonder how chickens feel when they molt? They often shy away from physical contact with humans or other chickens, which is understandable considering their physical condition.
But what do they think? Are they taken aback by the molt, reacting with surprise each time it happens, as if it's a novel experience? Or do they realize, if they're old enough to have molted before, that it's just that time of year again? Maybe they give the process no thought at all, so long as everything else in their world -- food, shelter, companionship -- remains unchanged.
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| Hope, Snow and Nellie, wondering why The Treats Guy has a camera instead. |
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