I suspect that people who keep chickens as, you know, livestock, may not go through quite as many cold-weather gyrations as those of us who treat them as pets.
It was 7 degrees outside with a wind chill of 13 below when I headed out to release our two hens from their coop and feed them at 7 o’clock this morning. I knew from the outset that I’d be out there for a while.
Even though I strongly suspected that Nellie and Hope, our Rhode Island Reds, would refuse to emerge from the coop, I placed the food and water bowls in the pen. For one thing, there was a dusting of snow in the pen, thanks to a squall that materialized late yesterday afternoon, before I could cover the pen with a tarp. Throw in the stiff breeze that blew first thing this morning and it made for a perfect storm of chicken recalcitrance, because Nellie and Hope hate both the snow and the wind.
Noetheless, I unlatched the coop door, on the off chance that “the girls” might surprise me and venture forth. Hope remained on the roost, but Nellie peeked out. She caught the wind on her face, saw the snow in the pen, and quickly retreated inside.
So I got to work, adjusting the tarp that I had placed on the pen last night and adding additional tarps to the sides of the pen, as buffers against the wind. The hens weren't buying it, though, and remained in the coop. I retrieved their food and water bowls from the pen and placed them in the coop, despite the risk that one of them could knock over the water bowl and make a mess.
There's work yet to be done after I warm up a bit. I'll sweep aside some of the snow in the pen, to try to entice the hens outside. If Nellie and Hope are kind enough to vacate the premises for a while, I'll then remove their overnight "deposits" from the coop.
The chicken mind is not the easiest thing to comprehend, so I have no idea if “the girls” appreciate my efforts. Whether they do or not, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing I try to do my best by them. After all, they are pets, not livestock.
It was 7 degrees outside with a wind chill of 13 below when I headed out to release our two hens from their coop and feed them at 7 o’clock this morning. I knew from the outset that I’d be out there for a while.
Even though I strongly suspected that Nellie and Hope, our Rhode Island Reds, would refuse to emerge from the coop, I placed the food and water bowls in the pen. For one thing, there was a dusting of snow in the pen, thanks to a squall that materialized late yesterday afternoon, before I could cover the pen with a tarp. Throw in the stiff breeze that blew first thing this morning and it made for a perfect storm of chicken recalcitrance, because Nellie and Hope hate both the snow and the wind.
Noetheless, I unlatched the coop door, on the off chance that “the girls” might surprise me and venture forth. Hope remained on the roost, but Nellie peeked out. She caught the wind on her face, saw the snow in the pen, and quickly retreated inside.
So I got to work, adjusting the tarp that I had placed on the pen last night and adding additional tarps to the sides of the pen, as buffers against the wind. The hens weren't buying it, though, and remained in the coop. I retrieved their food and water bowls from the pen and placed them in the coop, despite the risk that one of them could knock over the water bowl and make a mess.
There's work yet to be done after I warm up a bit. I'll sweep aside some of the snow in the pen, to try to entice the hens outside. If Nellie and Hope are kind enough to vacate the premises for a while, I'll then remove their overnight "deposits" from the coop.
The chicken mind is not the easiest thing to comprehend, so I have no idea if “the girls” appreciate my efforts. Whether they do or not, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing I try to do my best by them. After all, they are pets, not livestock.
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