Yesterday, as I was harvesting veggies for dinner, I cut the tough tops off of a few leeks and tossed them into the chicken run. The girls also got the old bean stalks, carrot greens and a few insect-chewed kale leaves. The hens clucked and chuckled at this manna from what appeared to be heaven – being as how I was literally throwing it over the fence and into their yard, it must have appeared to them as gifts from the gods.

Awhile later, after prepping my own dinner in the kitchen, I came out with a few more veggie scraps for the girls and the compost. Walking through their pen, I noticed that Petunia had a long leek leaf hanging from her mouth. Really long, about ten inches. She was trying to swallow it, and was taking it in like a worm. Of course, a chicken can’t spit something out. Once she started, she had to finish. Petunia had a distressed look in her eyes. Eating a tough long leek in this way must be uncomfortable! Not to mention a choking hazard. So I pulled and pulled and out it came. It was at least sixteen inches. Poor Petunia was vastly relieved to be done with that leek.

Is there a lesson in this story? Perhaps “don’t feed hens anything that looks remotely like a worm.” Or, ‘chop up long, stringy things before tossing them to the girls.” Or, “keep an eye on your hens; you never know what sort of trouble they can get into.” Or, “if you’re going to keep chickens, you can’t get grossed out at things like pulling a leek out of a gullet.”

We live less than 30 miles outside of Boston, but there’s lots of wildlife around here. Just last week a black bear came and smashed our bird feeders to bits and ate all of the highly caloric, fattening sunflower seeds, which is the ideal meal for a big animal that needs to bulk up before hibernation. We’ve bought another feeder, but will wait to put seed out until the bear is sound asleep.

Several of you have asked why some of the hens are bare around their vents (that’s a chicken term for “butt”). Snowball is at least partly to blame. When the hens loll about, taking dust baths, Snowball pecks at the now easy-to-reach vent feathers. She’s little and never draws blood. Annoying, but rarely so bad that the bathers bother to get up. Chickens pick up weird habits.

Oh, and by the way, Candy is fine, she’s just shedding big clumps of fur. Her way of getting ready for winter. Yes, the leaves are beginning to turn colors. Summer is over.

It’s not surprising that many of the emails I get from HenBlog readers have to do with plumage. After all, it’s the feathers —  the variety, the shimmer, the lovely fluff of them –that make our chickens so lovely. People into the “fancy” — that is, those who take their chickens to poultry shows — select chickens for conformation and how they fit the “type” (think dog show, but with chickens.) They also select their show stock for how perfect their plumage is. My hens are not fit to show. Snowball has wayward feathers that jut out. Ginger has rubbed her neck so that now no feathers grown in a stripe down it. Petunia has lost the feathers near the base of  the tail and they’ll never grow back. Buffy was pecked at when she was younger, and she has a bald spot on her head. All of this is normal for backyard hens. But if you want to see chickens with perfect, bathed, fluffed and glossed feathers, and if you want to see plumage extravagant and fanciful, go to a poultry show. Poultry Press is the paper that lists the shows. Check my chicken keeping Web site for details.

I have finally figured out a system to compost without any work! I’ve kept compost piles for years. I tried those black plastic tumblers, but they required frequent attention and they were too small. I’ve had bins, but I’d throw in corn cobs, which, a year later, still looked like corn cobs. You see, I like the idea of compost, but I don’t like to prep the material going in and I never get around to turning the pile.

Now my chickens do all of the work. I’ve fenced in a 3 x 3 foot corner of their yard with chicken wire. There’s a one foot wide opening so that the girls can get in. I put garden waste, weeds, kitchen scraps, and the dirty litter from the guinea pig cage in there. The chickens peck it to small bits, turn it over, and in short order, create the most perfect, loose, dark, uniformly-sized compost. When that bin fills, I close it off and let it rest for a few months. Meanwhile, I fence off another corner of their yard.

I know that the girls like their new job. When they see me heading for the compost, they come hurrying over, rush between my legs and get to the compost pile before me. It is certainly true that one person’s garbage is another one’s treasure.

I’ve been thinking about what I wrote yesterday. I believe that animals have innate natures that deserve respect. Unfortunately, people often have their own needs and agendas that they superimpose on animals. You see it with the folks who believe that wolves operate on a higher moral scale than people, or that dolphins are spiritual messengers or that dogs are children. (I don’t understand why people who love animals want them to be something other than what they are. I promise to stop here and not rant against PETA.)

We are caretakers of the animals in our lives and they thrive when we understand what it is that they need. With chickens, you can take care of the basics, like food and water, shelter and a place to take dust baths. They’ll be healthy and lay eggs. They’ll be fine, really, and I am understanding of farmers who have to straddle the economic line between care and financial survival.

But those of us with backyard hens have the wherewithal to do more. Give chickens enough space to safely sort out their pecking order and they will develop lasting friendships with other hens. (And yes, for you scientists out there, it is quantifiable. Do a study and see who hangs out with whom.) Give them an enriched environment, with places to explore and wriggly food to scratch for and you will have chickens that are alert and active, busy and chatty. Keep them company, pick them up, talk to them, and feed them tidbits, and you will have hens that are expectant that good things will appear when you do.

Add all of that up, and what you get is a backyard with hens that have obvious, unique personalities (there will be the shy one, the opportunistic one, the one who wants to be held.) You will have talkative, busy, silly, pushy, demanding, delightful animals in your life. And the best tasting eggs ever. I define that as happiness for both hen and owner.