Early in the Fall the hens begin to molt. Like leaves falling, it’s not all at once, but little by little. Some start in August, some in October. The girls look scraggly. Then they grow in aptly-named “pin feathers” (which look like short porcupine quills). Finally, they fluff out, hopefully in time to have a nice feather coat for the winter cold. During the molt they stop laying; their energy goes into feather-making.

With winter, the daylight hours shorten and the temperatures drop. All of this triggers the “don’t lay!” button on the hens. Before there was heat and electricity, before there was cheap refrigerated transport to ship eggs, eggs were seasonal. I have brochures from the turn of the last century talking about how to make money on “winter eggs.”

Those of us with backyard hens, go from having an abundance of eggs to having a few precious ones a week. Sometime around December I buy a dozen eggs at the store. It feels wrong, but I do it.

This year, I’ve tried an experiment. I have a light on a timer in the big barn. Hens need 14 hours of light to lay. I’m giving them that with a 60 watt bulb. Instead of no eggs, I’m getting 1 or 2 a day from six hens. Better than none. The girls in the hencam barn, without the light, stopped laying entirely.

It looks like this outside:

but I know the tide has turned, because of this in the hencam barn today:

I think that it’s Lulu’s. But it might be from Marge.

I’m thankful, not only for the egg, but the optimism that this snowy, icy winter isn’t permanent.

It was -10 degrees Fahrenheit this morning (thats -23 Celsius!) The girls in the big barn are fine. The bunny isn’t fazed. But the party girls (the little white leghorns) looked cold. My husband hung a heat lamp. It’s causing quite a bit of consternation in the coop. Lulu, the adventuress, has no qualms about warming her head. It’s blocking their favorite nesting box, so Marge is looking into other accommodations, and is checking out the lower boxes. She’s fussing around in them as if they are totally new to the coop. Placid Buffy is taking a nap. Very little fazes her.

The heat lamp won’t stay. If it gets above zero, it’ll get taken out. I think it’s better to have their living areas one temp than to have a hot spot. But for now, the lamp will give the little girls just enough warmth to stay healthy.

Despite the snowstorm, about two dozen people came to the Concord Bookshop to meet Tillie on Sunday. There was champagne and cookies. I made these:

I found these adorable gummy “fried eggs” at a store. Who could resist?

I read Tillie Lays an Egg to a rapt audience.

And then “Tillie” (you know her as Eggers on Hencam) greeted everyone. Eggers was absolutely fine away from her flock mates. The store was warm and interesting and she ate a lot of corn. She likes being a star.

Isn’t my skirt just the best?

“Tillie” and I will be visiting more stores soon. Check my appearances page for our schedule.

(photos by Spencer Webb)

I love a book with chickens in it, but I’m very fussy. I want the chickens to have their innate chickeness intact. I don’t want a human character dressed up in feathers. And I don’t want the chicken to stray too far from what a chicken would really do. I’ve a carefully edited selection on my chickenkeeping.com site.

Yesterday, Sonja Bolle, writing in her column in The LA Times, had her own opinionated take on good chicken books. I was thrilled that she included Tillie! Her list was somewhat different than mine, though we agreed on a number of books.

Do you have a list? Have I left off one of your favorites? Let me know.

This is what my vegetable garden looks like. I never did get around to harvesting the rutabagas.

Alma looks outside but that’s as far as she goes.

It looks like snow, but after yesterday’s rains and today’s freezing temperatures, that white stuff is a block of ice. Scooter doesn’t break through, but it’s hard on Lily’s paws.

So, in the midst of all of this cold white stuff, that makes it almost impossible to be outside, what appears in my mailbox? Boy, do those marketers know what they’re doing.