Almost all chickens have some external parasites, you just don’t notice them. Neither does the chicken. The birds can live with a few lice crawling under their feathers. So can you. Chickens take dust baths to keep them under control. Lice are soft-bodied and the dirt desiccates them. Add some diatomaceous earth to their favorite dusting area, and you’ll be sure to kill off the lice – the earth is sharp and lacerates the lice. (Be sure to only food-grade DE. Agricultural DE, used to kill slugs, etc, is  derived from sea creatures, is microscopically very sharp, and it will shred chicken’s soft tissues if ingested.)

Lice can get out of control and cause severe problems. In the winter, when the ground is frozen and there’s no loose dirt for bathing, the lice population will grow. In the spring, when it’s muddy and warm, the population increases even more. If your hen is elderly and arthritic, or ill and not an enthusiastic bather, you’ll have real problems.

The first place for a lice infestation is near the vent. There can be a lot of lice there and you won’t notice until the skin is bare and red. Like this.

Actually, this is Eleanor’s butt, and it’s been  red and bare like this for two years. No one knows why – but it is a dramatic representation of a sad-looking bottom, isn’t it?

Every few weeks I pick my hens up, turn them upside down, and look at the feathers near the vent. Last week’s check showed what I call “lice Q-Tips.”

Those cottony masses at the base of the feathers is a sure sign of lice.

After checking all of the hens and seeing way too much of this (and some crawly bugs, too) I decided to give everyone baths. I set up three bowls – one with a tea tree oil dog shampoo, one with a vinegar and water wash, and the last for a rinse. These bowls were dumped and refreshed several times. It was a hot, sunny day and I set an x-pen up on the grass so after their baths, the girls could dry out on a clean, comfy surface.

Not everyone was equally infested. I wasn’t surprised that my older, less active hens harbored the  most lice. On the other end of the spectrum was Lulu, the busiest hen of the lot, who didn’t have a louse on her. Here is her healthy bottom. Notice the many small, downy feathers. They’re so fluffy that you can’t see her skin.

Here’s another view. Isn’t that a nice bottom?

After bathing the hens, their pens got raked and DE was put down. My oldest and most infested hens also got a dusting of commercial louse powder. Eleanor will never have a fluffy bottom, like Lulu, but she’s a lot more comfortable.

Marge talks to her friends

A week ago we noticed that Marge wasn’t loudly complaining. That should have had us worried. A few days ago, Steve noticed that Marge was having a hard time hopping up and out of the pop-hole door. I thought that she was just getting old and stiff. But today she died. (I will post more, maybe next week, about this.)

Marge came to Little Pond Farm in the fall of 2004. A friend in town bought the “rainbow layer” assortment from Murray McMurray. Twenty-five were too many for her. She sold half for $4 each, and gave the money to Heifer International. We took six. It turned out that two were New Hampshire Reds – Marge and Petunia.

For the last 5 1/2 years, Marge has been a loud presence in our backyard. She was a sturdy, basic brown hen, but there was nothing plain about her personality. She talked. She told you what she thought – which was usually in the lines of, “more bugs!” and “that’s for me!” and “pay attention!” and, “bring it here!” She also announced when she was going into the coop and when she was leaving. For a few years, she laid eggs every day, and she let us know that she had done her job, very well thank-you, and she should have a reward for it. Lately she hadn’t been laying, but she said she still deserved her reward, and we agreed.

It’s going to be a lot quieter here without her. Petunia will miss her, and so will I.

For some reason that I cannot appreciate, people aspire to a lawn that looks like this:

Don’t get me wrong, this grass is lovely. It’s a gorgeous green, and feels good when I walk barefoot. I’ve got a whole swath of the backyard that looks like this. But it gets boring, don’t you think? I like to see some clover, too (and dog paws.) The clover blooms are good for the bees that I want to pollinate my garden, and the darker green adds an undertone to the lawn.

It’s hard to keep a lawn evenly green. These things appear:

I’d rather not have dandelions in the lawn, not because of the yellow flowers, which are quite pretty, but because the leaves muscle out everything else around them, and later in the summer look so ugly.

Of course, not all areas of the yard can support lush green grass. I could artificially boost the growth with pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers. But I don’t. I put up with this:

Because not much further off, at the margins of the lawn is this:

moss and ladyslippers – about as perfect a lawn as I can imagine.

Quiz.

What is this?

a) a giant’s tic-tac mint

b) a horse pill

c) an egg laid by Siouxie

You’re right! The answer is C. It’s the odd egg of the week.