Hen Chronicles: And to think it was all because of the rain

One of the most predictable things about chickens is that you don’t have to coax them into going to bed. Every day, without fail, our three hens abandon their pen at dusk and troop up the ramp to their coop, where they hop up onto their roost for the night.

Well, almost every day. On Sunday, the rules did not apply.

As twilight settled in, Snow, Nellie and Hope were still in the pen. Fifteen minutes later, they remained outside. Another 15 minutes passed, and “the girls” had yet to retire to the coop.

I didn’t want to wait any longer to lock them in for the night, so I headed out to try to figure out what was going on. First, I checked inside the coop. Was it wet as a result of that day’s rain? Had a mouse or some other stray critter found its way in? No on both counts. The coop was dry, and empty.

Then I turned my attention to the hens, which I should have done initially. The answer immediately revealed itself.

It had been raining, off and on, for several hours, so the bricks that surround the coop and the pen, forming a mini patio of sorts, were soaked. Not surprisingly, the slick brickwork on the east side of the pen sported several slugs.

I learned years ago that chickens view slugs as a delicacy, the finest kind of delectable morsel. All three hens had gathered along the east side of the pen, side by side, where they were trying to figure out how to snag a particularly large slug that sat just beyond their beaks, outside the chicken wire. When I flicked the slug into the bushes, the hens did an about-face and headed straight for the coop.

If there’s one thing that can keep chickens up past their bedtime, it’s the prospect of one last snack. Not unlike humans. Lesson learned.