Hen Chronicles: A work stoppage, then a return to normalcy

Maybe I should give up trying to understand chickens. You know, just go with the flow, as we used to say, and abandon any hope of comprehension.

Let’s start with our Plymouth Rock, Snow. We were under veterinarian’s orders a while back to reduce her exposure to sunlight for several days, to discourage her from laying eggs after she suffered what is commonly called a “blowout.” Properly known as a prolapsed oviduct, this occurs when part of the oviduct, the channel in a hen's body through which an egg passes en route to the exit, is partially “blown out” with an egg. That happened to Snow on May 17, and after the ejected tissue was pushed back in (yes, really), Snow had to recover in semi-dark isolation for a few days.

Snow was reunited with Nellie and Hope, our Rhode Island Reds, on May 21. But she did not resume laying. One day passed. Then two. Three. Then four. May 26th rolled around. Still no eggs.

Snow is old enough to retire, and we started to think she had entered "henopause." A full week after she rejoined the rest of the flock, she had yet to lay. May 29th came and went without an egg. May 30th too. To make matters worse, as Snow’s hiatus dragged on, Nellie and Hope slowed down. Then they stopped laying. Not for as long a period as Snow, but for several consecutive days.

Finally, on May 31st, when we expected Snow’s membership in the AARP (American Association of Retired Poultry) to officially kick in, she showed us that she hasn’t called it quits just yet.

Snow laid an egg.

On June 1, Liz gave the other hens a talking to about the importance of getting back to work. The day after that, Nellie and Hope were back in the game. On June 2, all three hens laid eggs, followed on June 3 by an egg from one of the Reds, and another the next day.

Hens can stop laying for all sorts of reasons, including anxiety and extreme weather. We’re not at all sure what happened in this case. Presumably, Snow’s recovery took quite some time. But why did Nellie and Hope join in? They had no injuries and showed no signs of being sick. Was it a sisterly show of solidarity? A work stoppage to protest unspecified grievances? Maybe they were egg-bound? Stressed out by the sound of a neighbor’s chainsaw when he cut down some trees near the coop? Adversely affected by a couple of unusually hot days?

Chickens do a lot of talking. I understand some of what they have to say ("where the hell is our snack?" and "the sky is falling") but they haven’t really explained their recent behavior. Perhaps the answer will turn up in their memoirs. The English translation, of course.