Pearl and Beryl are both broody.

Both are fluffed up and hot. Both think that they have to hunker down in a nesting box in order to incubate (non-existent) eggs. But that’s where the similarity ends.

Beryl is in an angry, bad mood.

Pearl sits placidly on the nest.

Beryl can’t bear to be moved. When I let the hens out to free-range, I disentangle the two broodies from their boxes and toss them outside, too. Beryl chrrrrs in frustration and runs back inside. Pearl goes for a stroll and takes a half-hour to scratch and eat.

Broody Pearl on an outing.

Then Pearl takes a dust bath.

Eventually Pearl returns to her nesting box and gently settles her fluff and heft back down. Meanwhile, Beryl, in her crazed state, has shoved Ruby out of a box and has smashed an egg before settling in.

And that is why, although Pearl is not laying, that I will leave her be. She is the perfect broody. If my coops weren’t full, I’d get her some chicks to raise. Beryl is the bad broody. She is now in the anti-broody coop.

She’s eating with gusto, rattling her feathers and chuck-chucking the entire time. It’s been two days and I’ve noticed a slight change. I’m hoping that she’ll be back on the roost with the others tonight. Or tomorrow.

If you want to know more about this condition, I’ve posted a new FAQ about broody hens. Who’s broody in your coop?

Every year in the spring my father planted a vegetable garden. The rows were straight and the tomatoes grew out of holes in plastic sheeting. By June the garden was ignored. By August it was a tangle of plants and weeds. He’d stand near the edge and look at it. Nothing here to harvest, he’d say and turn back to the house.

I learned to ignore him and look under the leaves.

I Spy something yellow and orange in the squash patch.

Look closely!

I Spy something munching in the flower pot. MANY somethings munching. How many do you see?

Look closely!

I Spy something noisily cheeping in the garden shed.

It’s not in the nest.

It’s a fledgling on the can!

What’s that I Spy on the fence?

Another fuzzy-headed Carolina Wren!

There’s so much to see. You just have to look. What have you spied today?

My goats’ preferred food is bulky and coarse (and thorny!) I don’t have a large pasture for the boys, but I do have a small meadow that I manage with a portable electric netted fence. I let them eat one section down, while the other becomes overgrown with what you might consider weeds, but that they see as gourmet fare. I recently moved the fence to let Pip and Caper have access to brambles, grasses and flowers.

The boys could never be considered svelte.

Yet I am always amazed at what happens to their bodies when they eat – which they do, with much loud munching and burping.

Look at Caper’s asymmetrical shape after a half-hour of grazing! (That’s his rumen – one of four stomachs – jutting out.)

I guess that when a belly gets that full, that one gets itchy. Lucky Caper, the rock in the paddock hits exactly the right spot.

As always, there are multiple storylines going on in my backyard, so I thought I’d use this post to catch you up on some of what’s happening.

Pearl, the Blue Cochin, and Topaz, the Buff Orpington, continue to brood. I’ve already broken Topaz once of a broody spell by putting her into the anti-broody coop. It worked, but within a couple of weeks she went back to sitting in the nesting box, on top of nothing. Broody hens don’t lay, but since the other hens are producing plenty of eggs, I’d ignore her this time around except for several extenuating circumstances. She’s one of those crazed broodies who only gets off the nest box once a day to eat and defecate. Although she won’t starve to death, she has lost weight and looks poorly. Pearl isn’t like that. When I remove Pearl from the nesting box and set her outside with the Gems to free-range, she hunts bugs and eats grass for a half-hour before going back inside. Not Topaz. She paces and doesn’t eat a thing, and then when I let back in looks like this. Bonkers.

Yesterday was hot, so I slipped a cold pack under her. That’s supposed to bring down the hen’s body temperature and break the broody spell. Topaz looked at it, and was thrilled – something to sit on! She hunkered down on the cold pack all day until I finally removed it.

I’d give up, except Topaz is so desperate to sit on something that she has now taken to sitting on top of Pearl.

Yesterday, poor Pearl, underneath the full feathery weight of Topaz, was panting and looking on the verge of heat stroke. However, being broody herself meant that Pearl refused to move. Giving Topaz fake eggs to get her off of Pearl won’t work. I know because she ignores the real eggs in the other nesting boxes. Topaz has become fixated on Pearl. So, today Topaz will go back into the anti-broody coop.

Meanwhile, Twinkydink, who is over seven years old, has started laying again. That one egg the other day was not a fluke. She’s now laid two more, all with sturdy shells and the same funny pointy shape. It’s like she’s found some magic laying hen elixir.

Lastly, Philomena passed away in her sleep just a day after we euthanized her sister, Agnes. I did a necropsy on her, and although she presented the same outward symptoms, looking inside of her I found different issues. What was the same was that she was tumorous. Although it is clear that she had been failing for a long time, I don’t think that it affected her daily life until recently because her crop was full and she had produced manure the day before. So, my flock of older hens in the small barn dwindles, but I am learning from each of them.

It has been hot here, but nothing like the dangerous temperatures in the rest of the country. The fireflies have been blinking at night and the frogs have been singing. Toad babies the size of my pinkie’s fingernail are hopping in the garden. The tomatoes are still green and I’m impatient for the harvest. There’s a lot of sumer left and more storylines to follow.

Topaz is a Buff Orpington. She is persistently broody. I’ve lost track of how long she’s been planted in the nesting box. I broke her of the broodiness once already by putting her in the anti-broody house, where she had food and water and nothing else. It bored her. It made her angry (well, all broodies look irate) and, most importantly, it cooled off her body temperature.

That lasted for 3 days and then she went right back into the nesting box.

When I toss her out of the box she goes into the classic broody huffy fit. (Imagine an agitated staccato clucking soundtrack with this photo and you begin to get the idea.)

A broody hen doesn’t lay eggs. No one likes having them around. I’d had it. I’d read, somewhere, that if you cool off a brooy’s butt that it will break the cycle. I confess to taking a hose to Topaz’s bottom yesterday. It was a hot day. It’s not like she was going to catch a chill. Orps have more fluffy feathers than you can imagine back there. It took quite awhile to give her a good soaking.

She was surprised by her wet feathers.

Topas looked once again like a normal (i.e. not a deranged broody) hen.

Topaz joined the other girls who where enjoying an outing in the yard.

But when they all came in, Topaz went right back into the nesting box.

I give up. I don’t want to hatch eggs this summer. But if you do, let me know. I’ve got the perfect broody hen for you.