Pearl, my beautiful splash Cochin, usually looks like a feather duster that would have been used in a Victorian mansion.

Cochins are fluffy because they have many more soft feathers than other breeds. Also, they lack hard, shiny outer feathers. But, each year, just like all other chickens, Cochins drop their thousands of feathers and grow in new ones. This should happen just once. But, for some reason, Pearl went through an early, partial molt in July. I wasn’t surprised, because the worst layers molt first, and Pearl rarely lays. After the molt, she went broody for weeks. Then, mid-October she roused herself from her broody stupor and went into a second molt.

Pearl has so many feathers that at first, you might not notice that she is molting. From a distance, Pearl appears to be as lovely as ever.

But, look closely, and you’ll see that her coat appears looser. New feathers are emerging on the wings. And her bottom looks like this. (It’s obvious when the wind is blowing!) No wonder normally friendly hens don’t want to be picked up during the molt. Would you want to be handled with quills sticking out of your bottom?

Cochins have feathered feet, and even those feathers fall out and new ones grow in. Looking at her legs, I became worried, as the scales are sticking out and not smooth like they should be. Was this scaly leg mite?

No, it was just the new feather shafts pushing their way out. It does look uncomfortable, doesn’t it?

A few more weeks and Pearl will be fully dressed again. Have patience, Pearl!

PS Because I know you’ll ask – I don’t do much different for my molting hens. They appreciate dust baths, so I make sure that they free-range and that their dust bathing bin in the coop is full and clean. I’m careful not to feed bread and pasta as treats, but do toss them a handful of my dog’s expensive fish kibble every few days, because the chickens need quality protein in order to regenerate their feathers. (But, overdoing the protein can cause problems, so I use restraint.) I recently got some chopped alfalfa, which is very good for them. Older hens can have a bit more trouble getting through the molt, so the ancient chickens in the Little Barn are getting a handful of shelled sunflower seeds (not much, a tablespoon per bird!) per day. But, really, all that they need is time and patience.

Even with daylight savings time, mornings have been dark, and very cold. We’ve turned off the outside water. A line of frost outlines each leaf in the yard. There’s been ice in the outside chicken waterers. One morning it was 22 degrees F. I pulled the last of the green bean plants and fed them to the animals. Brown leaves are piling up in the corners of my vegetable garden. With some relief, I thought that I was done with the garden for the season. But the other day I had a sudden thought. Did I pull the carrots? I had forgotten all about them!

This has happened before. Last time I didn’t remember until after the ground had frozen solid. I had to wait for a thaw to pry them up, by which time the roots had turned to mush. But this time look at what I found underground!

Carrots harvested after the first frost are especially sweet. They’re so good we’ve been eating them raw, but I’ll cook them up, too. Some I’ll dress with honey and ginger. How do you cook your carrots?

The goats don’t need any fancy preparations. They got the tops (and a few of the carrots too small to bother with). There was much delighted munching, crunching and burping.

Now the gardening season is really, truly over.

Goats love to climb. They like to doze on up-high platforms. Pip has his bench, but Caper has been stuck with a low-lying rock. (Pip does not share.) My friend, Lauren Scheuer, (author of the charming Once Upon A Flock) lives for an excuse to wield a power tool. I lured her here with 2-inch screws and hot coffee. She brought her famous dog, Marky.

I had a pallet and some logs. Lauren travels with spare boards. She set to work.

The goats had to watch from the pasture. Goats and power tools are something that you never, ever want to mix.

In no time at all, Lauren had constructed a goat platform. The goats checked it out.

Different ways to get on and off it were explored.

The goats approved.

It’s big enough that I can sit with them, which at first I thought would be a sweet thing. However, Pip had a distant memory of being a little baby goat and sitting on my lap. Just after this photo was taken, he settled all hundred pounds down on me. I told Pip that was not a good idea!

The platform is sited right behind the stumps. It’ll be interesting to see which goat stakes a claim to it. My guess is Pip. He wants everything. What will Caper do? Stay tuned!

Phoebe is the second rabbit to live with the flock in the Little Barn. The first was Candy, the Empress of the Barnyard. She was a clever, imperious lop-eared that liked to play tricks on the chickens. If you see Betsy chasing Phoebe, it’s because she bore the brunt of many of Candy’s jokes and has little tolerance for any bunny. Phoebe, however, isn’t Candy. She is mild-mannered, and so sweet that she wouldn’t think of teasing the hens.

Phoebe genuinely likes the chickens and wants to be around them. That became clear when she abandoned her cozy rabbit hutch to live in the Little Barn. She created a den under the nesting boxes, and I accommodated her wishes by putting hay under there, and by placing her dish of rabbit pellets nearby.

In the morning, the hens jump off of the roost and mill around, waiting for me to open the pop door to let them out. Phoebe is just as eager and maneuvers into the front of the crowd, and is often first out the door.

That’s because rabbits don’t like to mess their houses, and given a choice, they’ll use a litter area off in a corner. This is where Phoebe goes.

Rabbits are crepuscular, meaning they are most active at dawn and dusk. During the day, Phoebe naps in her den, or hangs out with the old hens dozing in the sun.

Phoebe does have bursts of activity, even at midday. She sprints around the pen, she goes over to the fence to chat with the goats, and she eats. Along with downing her pellets, Phoebe forages through the weeds and things that I put into the hens’ pen. She especially likes to gnaw on the pumpkin shell. The Ladies sometimes chase Phoebe away. They’re being chickens, and use chicken body language to defend their turf and bit of food. At best the Ladies get a beak full of fur. Phoebe is usually unimpressed and simply hops away.

Sometimes I put greens into the suet feeder hanging on the roosting bar which keeps the vegetable clean, and allows Phoebe to take her time nibbling.

Once in awhile, the chickens eat Phoebe’s rabbit food.

It’s not bad for them, but I’d rather that they eat their own pellets. My solution is to block it off. Phoebe can see out, but the hens can’t reach the food.

Unfortunately, there’s not as easy a solution to prevent Phoebe from eating the hens’ food.

It’s not ideal for a rabbit, but it is vegetarian, and the bulk of what she eats is the right stuff, so I don’t worry about it. Candy lived to the old age of nine on this same exact diet.

At dusk, the chickens go inside the coop to roost. This is Phoebe’s favorite time of the day. She’s always outside, romping, or eating, or visiting with the goats. But it’s important for her to go inside, safely tucked away from nighttime predators. I didn’t want to chase her in, so instead I trained her to come. Knowing what she wants and being consistent is the key. Every night she watches me close up the Big Barn and put the goats away. She kicks up her heels and does one last tear around the pen, and then she runs inside for her treat. Banana chips.

I feed her two, then close up the pop door and say good-night.

A bag of banana chips is $1.19. If you’d like to send Phoebe a present and support what I do here at the HenCam, you can buy her a bag here.