I just realized how long it has been since I’ve posted on my City Hen blog. Shame on me! My hens would wilt their tail feathers in disapproval if they knew. I mean, the spectacular shows of feather-filled beauty they give daily, the momentary glimpses of brilliance I observe in dapple-sun lawn grass, and always the egg-laying trials and tribulations–all unrecognized by the general public of late! Shame, I tell you.
Today’s subject? Molting, triple-power. All three girls. Can you imagine the number of feathers you find when all of your hens decide to re-grow their downy gloriousness? I will tell you: a lot. Daily raking of the run is required, extra protein in their diets, and–you guessed it–no eggs.
When was the last time I saw a precious little golden orb of delight in the nesting box? Has to be almost a month now. And with the days getting shorter, the light fading faster, the girls simply stop producing. Some folks put a lamp in their coop at night to emulate longer sunlight hours. I am, however, of the opinion that any messing with Mother Nature is not cool. If the girls need to take a break for reasons I can’t control, then I certainly don’t feel right altering that natural inclination. So I have to buy a few eggs at the grocery store and shut my beak about it. Whatever. there are worse things in the world.
And so we are nearing the end of the annual molt for Goldie, Marguerite, and Mabel. Their fluffy feathery little plump bodies simply sparkle with renewal. Will we see eggs in our Christmas stockings in a few weeks? Pray, yes.