We don’t tend to get dangerously hot summer weather here in northern New England. Ninety degrees is “wicked hot” by our standards; when the temperature rises higher than that, we really take notice.
So when temps here in central Maine hit 95 degrees one day last weekend, with a heat index of 101, I got nervous. Not about myself, but about “the girls,” Nellie and Hope, our six-year-old Rhode Island Reds. Six isn’t exactly elderly for hens, but our duo aren’t spring chickens anymore either.
I learned years ago that keeping chickens cool in the summer can be more difficult than keeping them warm in the winter. Within reasonable limits, they do a pretty good job of coping with the cold, what with all those feathers, but they have a tougher time dealing with the heat.
Thanks to some tall vegetation east of the hens' pen, it remained shaded until late morning on July 20, the day in question. At that point, I raised an old patio umbrella over the pen, to shield it from the midday sun. As the day wore on and the temperature soared ever higher, Nellie seemed to be fine, but Hope began to show signs of discomfort, and possible distress. She panted, as overheated chickens do, and hid under the raised coop. Eventually, she all but stopped moving around, for extended periods of time. I wouldn’t say she was listless, but it was quite clear she was having a very bad day.
My wife Liz and I considered moving the hens into a small backup coop that we keep in the somewhat cooler garage as a sort of intensive care unit when a hen is sick or injured and needs to be isolated. But we decided that relocation might just exacerbate Hope’s problems, by creating more anxiety.
Instead, I tried various cooling tricks, such as hosing down the pen several times, and misting the hens with a spray bottle. I placed ice in their water bowl, covered portions of the pen with plywood, emptied a large bag of ice cubes in the pen, and gave the hens chunks of watermelon (which they like), to help keep them hydrated.
As 6 p.m. rolled around, Hope remained stationary and visibly uncomfortable, and we again considered moving the hens into the garage. But suddenly, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, Hope bounced back. Her behavior returned to normal and the crisis, if that’s what it was, passed. The weather has been more seasonable since then, and she has not shown renewed signs of stress from the heat.
But what of the future? As climate change worsens and our weather becomes ever more extreme and erratic, the human race won’t be the only affected species. We'd have to be blind not to realize that the denizens of the animal kingdom, including our pets and livestock, will suffer as well.
So when temps here in central Maine hit 95 degrees one day last weekend, with a heat index of 101, I got nervous. Not about myself, but about “the girls,” Nellie and Hope, our six-year-old Rhode Island Reds. Six isn’t exactly elderly for hens, but our duo aren’t spring chickens anymore either.
I learned years ago that keeping chickens cool in the summer can be more difficult than keeping them warm in the winter. Within reasonable limits, they do a pretty good job of coping with the cold, what with all those feathers, but they have a tougher time dealing with the heat.
Thanks to some tall vegetation east of the hens' pen, it remained shaded until late morning on July 20, the day in question. At that point, I raised an old patio umbrella over the pen, to shield it from the midday sun. As the day wore on and the temperature soared ever higher, Nellie seemed to be fine, but Hope began to show signs of discomfort, and possible distress. She panted, as overheated chickens do, and hid under the raised coop. Eventually, she all but stopped moving around, for extended periods of time. I wouldn’t say she was listless, but it was quite clear she was having a very bad day.
My wife Liz and I considered moving the hens into a small backup coop that we keep in the somewhat cooler garage as a sort of intensive care unit when a hen is sick or injured and needs to be isolated. But we decided that relocation might just exacerbate Hope’s problems, by creating more anxiety.
Instead, I tried various cooling tricks, such as hosing down the pen several times, and misting the hens with a spray bottle. I placed ice in their water bowl, covered portions of the pen with plywood, emptied a large bag of ice cubes in the pen, and gave the hens chunks of watermelon (which they like), to help keep them hydrated.
As 6 p.m. rolled around, Hope remained stationary and visibly uncomfortable, and we again considered moving the hens into the garage. But suddenly, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, Hope bounced back. Her behavior returned to normal and the crisis, if that’s what it was, passed. The weather has been more seasonable since then, and she has not shown renewed signs of stress from the heat.
But what of the future? As climate change worsens and our weather becomes ever more extreme and erratic, the human race won’t be the only affected species. We'd have to be blind not to realize that the denizens of the animal kingdom, including our pets and livestock, will suffer as well.
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