In the winter, Candy is the first animal cared for in the morning. But now that the weather has warmed up, I go outside and feed the fish first.

Candy is peeved. She’s the Empress Rabbit and should be attended to before all others. Candy lets me know her displeasure by ringing her bell and gnawing at her door.

I let her out and she gallops down the ramp,

and then she checks to see if her royal subjects, the hens, have been let out yet,

and then she goes and pees.

It takes a long time to pee.

The rest of the day is spent visiting with the chickens, all the while maintaining the proper royal attitude.

She confers with the goats.

At the end of the day, as night falls, I go out to close up the barns. As I check on the hens, Candy watches me, and when I step into her pen, she runs a big loop around her hutch royal abode, charges up the ramp, and turns and waits for her due. Two banana chips.

All hers. You don’t have to share when you are the Queen.

Today is HenBlog’s 6th anniversary. The writing that I do for this blog is the most consistent, longest work project of my life. Writing itself isn’t new to me – I’ve always thought of myself as a writer. One of my clearest childhood memories is of putting down my thoughts and stories in a notebook. Over the years my identity as a writer was confirmed by the publication of five books and numerous magazine and newspaper articles. My sense of self-worth was tied into whether an editor and a publisher deemed my words valuable and interesting enough to put into print. I continue to want to get my projects picked up by traditional publishing houses. (I love the collaborative process that takes place with a talented team of people all focused on getting a book out.) But, unlike in the past, my sense of worth as a writer is not limited to that.

A turning point for me happened two years ago, during a lunch with a friend and an editor. We were talking about what I was writing, and how hard it is to get published. We had just finished a course of egg salad and greens, and were eating chocolate soufflé. We were on my screen porch, watching the chickens in the yard. She said, “This is what you do. Do this.” She swept her arm out at the view. I felt like I had been given permission to turn my backyard world into my writing world.

Now I have my books, but I also have you, and this on-going conversation on HenCam about a chicken keeping life. The story continues in my school visits and chicken keeping workshops. It’ll be told in new books and articles. But, mostly, it happens here. Thanks for reading.

Lily celebrated the anniversary by going fishing. It’s raining, thank goodness, and the pond has been rising, enough so that the little goldfish were swimming in the shallows. Lily caught and ate one before I realized why she was prancing and wagging her tail in the yard. She’s taking the rest of the day off.

I wish that I could take the day off and go fishing (although not exactly the sort of fishing that Lily does) but I’ve things to do. Writing projects are in the works.

If you have a favorite story that you’ve read here, do let me know.

A couple of months ago, Agnes looked poorly. She sunbathed, hunched and fluffed. She didn’t lord it over the other hens. Her comb turned dark and shriveled.

This is a sick bird.

Agnes is a Golden Comet, which is hybrid designed to lay day in and day out for two years. After that, it’s assumed that she’s done. She’s three and she hasn’t laid an egg yet this spring. Neither has her sister, Philomena, who doesn’t look sick, but is also depleted. A real farmer would dispatch them. I’m not a real farmer and so I’ve come up with some treatments to help these old hens.

Agnes looked to be on death’s door last month, but she’s still here thanks to epsom salts. Epsom salt is a combination of magnesium and sulfate. You can find it in the pharmacy, as it’s used by people as a laxative and as a foot soak. For such a simple and inexpensive product, it has many curative functions. The magnesium improves circulatory health, flushes toxins, improves muscle and nerve function, maintains the proper level of calcium in the blood and increases oxygen use. The sulfates help form brain tissues and joint proteins, creates mucin proteins that line the digestive tract, detoxifies contaminants, and improves absorption of nutrients.

Obviously, epsom salts might be jus the thing for a hen worn out by expelling calcium and protein in the form of eggs.

There are two ways to dose the hen. One is by dissolving 1 teaspoon in an ounce of water and, using a syringe, carefully squirting it down her throat. The other is much easier. Fill a small washtub with warm water and stir in a heaping 1/4 cup of epsom salts. Put the chicken in the bath. Let her sit there for 15 minutes. She’ll like it! (I have a YouTube video of how to bathe a chicken here.) If it’s a chilly day, blow dry before putting her back out. If the epsom salt treatment is going to work, it will after two days, a treatment each day (oral and/or bath both times.)

I did both treatments, and it worked for Agnes. She’s still with us. Look at her comb now.

I still don’t expect Agnes to lay another egg, or even last past the summer, but I’ve made her more comfortable. I even saw her lord it over the treats the other day and peck Betsy out of the way. The old girl is feeling better.

Admit it. We all have fantasies. Mine involve strapping young men. With strong backs. Bent over.

Doing this:

And also doing this:

I am sipping iced coffee and watching the guys edge the lawn, fix the holes left by a horde of partying moles this past winter, and wheeling load after load of mulch into the gardens. Fantasies do come true.

The girls are not going to be allowed out to mess this up. Not until after the garden tour on June 1 and June 2. But not to worry about them. They love guys with wheelbarrows, too. Some of the dirt dug up from the flower bed in the backyard has been dumped into the chicken runs. They have plenty of scratching and grub-eating to do. Chicken fantasies are so easy to fulfill.

The plants are having a good day. The drenching rains have revived them. The dogwood is blooming.

Scooter is having a good day in the sun (and see, more plants are blooming and having a good day in the little pond.)

The goats are having a good day. We moved their electric fence and so now they can reach new grass and brambles in the meadow. That makes Pip smile. Of course, Pip always has a good day, although perhaps some are even better good days than others.

Candy is having an especially good day. This morning she had a hop-around in the goats’ paddock. This afternoon she has claimed the prime spot in the pen – the dirt wallow. It’s sunny and dry, which are perfect dust-bathing conditions for the chickens. But, Candy rules. There she is.

This is a bunny having a very, very good day.