Humans are not the only creatures who must adapt, bit by bit, to the plummeting temperatures of the season. Chickens, too, must come to terms with the cold, one day at a time.
The thermometer on the deck read 20 degrees when I headed out to the coop at dawn. That’s not especially cold for late November in New England, but it is the coldest it’s been hereabouts so far this season.
In previous winters, Snow, Hope and Nellie have withstood readings south of 10 below without ill effects, so 20 above is positively balmy by comparison. But “the girls” didn’t see it that way this morning. Not all of them, anyway.
Top-of-the-pecking-order Snow bolted from the coop and into the pen as soon as I unlatched the door about 6:30 or so because she's voracious and breakfast awaited her outside. But Nellie, who usually emerges right on Snow’s tail feathers, or even ahead of her, remained on the roost with Hope. Even when I shook a container of scratch — a favorite cold-weather snack — in the open coop door to entice them, Nellie and Hope refused to budge.
The design of the coop is such that, if I lift the hinged roof and peek inside, I find myself at eye level with whoever is on the roost. So it was this morning, when Nellie and Hope peered out at me from their perch, wearing expressions that seemed to ask: “What? Already?”
They came out eventually, but it took additional coaxing. Still, there are small signs of progress. Instead of retreating into the coop as soon as they finished their breakfast, as they have been doing on cold mornings recently, “the girls” hung out in the pen, scratching and pecking and doing what chickens do when they aren’t preoccupied with warming up.
They aren’t ready for 12 below just yet. Me neither. But we're all headed in the right direction.
They aren’t ready for 12 below just yet. Me neither. But we're all headed in the right direction.
No comments:
Post a Comment