There’s always one in a group – the string bean skinny, knee bouncing, always in constant motion, kid. He’s the sort that is constantly eating, but never puts on an ounce of weight. He burns right through the food as if it’s rocket fuel and he’s off to the moon.

Twiggy is that kid in my flock.

Have you ever seen her relaxing?

No. I didn’t think so.

She’s a White Leghorn, and she’s true to type. She’s sleek and full of curiosity and energy. She also lays eggs, and a lot of them. Even in her second year, she lays an astounding six eggs each week. Leghorns don’t go broody. She won’t take a break until she molts in the fall.

In order to make those eggs and keep moving at her leghorn clip, Twiggy needs to eat. She’s the first one at the feeder in the morning, she eats frequently during the day, and she makes sure that her crop is full before bedtime.

If I have to turn on the light after the hens have gone to roost in the dark, (which is what happens when Phoebe has decided to have a hop around instead of going to bed and I have to go back to the close up the coop on her schedule) the hens all murmur and shuffle at the sudden brightness. Not Twiggy. As soon as the light is turned on, she hops down and starts eating.

Everyone finds this annoying, especially Phoebe who likes to have the floor to herself at night.

I, however, recognize what it takes to make those eggs, day after day, and I do appreciate Twiggy’s output. Besides, it’s simply fun to have a hen with such kinetic energy and a comb like this in the flock.

I wanted to catch you up on a few storylines going on here.

The good news is that, what with the extra shade and the addition of pond salt, The Beast is fully recovered from her bout with sunburn.

The thermometer is registering temperatures above 90º F and it’s been humid, but I don’t need to look at a weather gauge to know that. I just have to observe Phoebe. She’s stretched out on the cool concrete inside of the Little Barn. If you want to see her active, check the cams at nightfall. She’s been letting us know that she needs a hop-around then, and not to ask her to come inside until it’s fully dark.

The new feeder trial has ended. The hens finally got over their fear of it and stepped on the platform. So, I adjusted it for the next step – slight movement while they step on the lever. That totally freaked them out, and they have remained freaked out for two days.

The hens crane their necks to grab a few pellets, but they’re not eating like they should. This is a group of eleven, three-year old hens. They’re laying six to eight eggs daily. The shells are thin because they’re old hens. They absolutely have to eat in order to make the eggs and stay healthy. I took away the lever feeder and returned their old hanging one. They rushed to get breakfast.

I guess that you can’t teach an old hen new tricks. I’ll hold onto that feeder, though. I do think that it’s a good idea, and I’d still like to be able to use it to keep the sparrows out of the chicken pellets. I’ll just have to wait until I get a new batch of chickens (which shouldn’t be for a couple of years yet!)

Lastly, Scooter has been working hard. My oldest son is home from college and recovering after a demanding semester. Scooter is helping.