The question how long do chickens live? is not one that anyone used to ask because poultry are rarely kept past their second year. As much as many of us love our chickens solely for their charm and character, it’s important to understand that historically their primary reason for being has been for food. Because meat birds are eaten when they are a few months old, and laying hens are most productive in their first two years, chickens have never been designed to last longer. Even in the past, on small farms, laying hens were harvested for the stew pot by the age of eighteen months. After that they’re barely worth turning into broth. From a farmer’s perspective, replenishing stock every year makes sense, but what does this mean for those of us who have chickens that become pets? We have issues that “real” farmers, even those who kept small homesteads in the 1800s, have never had to face.

In the first two years most losses will be due to infectious respiratory diseases. Hopefully, immediate treatment with antibiotics will enable many of your birds to survive. Two diseases too frequently seen are kidney failure and fatty liver disease. These, however, are preventable with proper feeding. Also in the first two years, hens will die from laying glitches. Making eggs is a complicated system and all does not always work smoothly. Internal laying and prolapse are two of the many issues that occur in flocks.

Hens that live into their third year and beyond lay fewer eggs each season. Their molts take longer, they forage less and they nap more. Your best layers will usually be the first to get sick and die. It takes a huge effort to make an egg day in and day out. The hens simply get worn out. When one part fails, everything does. As they age, hens develop a multitude of reproductive issues. Sometimes the tract becomes diseased, sometimes it breaks, and a piece of it solidifies and gets expelled. Sometimes the hen can no longer process calcium to make solid egg shells. The eggs break inside of her. Eventually, these issues cause death. Hens also get diseases which are serious and irreversible. Cancer and tumors are prevalent. Sometimes the digestive tract becomes diseased or impacted. I’ve had hens begin to starve because they could no longer digest food. (I’ve written extensively about the kindness of euthanizing hens. They don’t show suffering in a way you’re likely used to, and they’re not going to tell you when they’re done. You have to decide. This is the hard, yet unavoidable, part of backyard chicken keeping.)

It’s not always disease that gets your flock. Regardless of how carefully you protect your chickens, predators will find a way in. Suddenly, you lose  one hen, or all of them.

A hen that lives past the age of four might have a few more years – I’ve noticed that the ones that managed to live that long aren’t as prone to ailments. By seven she has truly defied the odds. In my own flock, I’ve had hens live to be nine. It’s rare, but it happens, that a hen will live for a dozen years.

It’s crucial that a person who is thinking about keeping a few chickens in their backyard takes into account that a hen can live for years after she is no longer productive. If there are zoning restrictions on flock size, what will you do when your hens are too old to lay? Some people chose to cull at two years when feeding the chicken costs more than the value of the eggs that she lays. Other will keep the old hens on as pets. If that’s the decision, then it’s also important to understand that hens get sick, that veterinary help is hard to find, and that when it is it available it’s prohibitively expensive and rarely effective. Sick hens often suffer for weeks before they die, as owners do not know how to make the final decision about euthanasia. Anyone who keeps chickens will face making very difficult end of life decisions.

Despite the ailments and lack of eggs, by the time one of my hens stops laying, she’s become part of the fabric of my backyard community. I do what I can to keep the old chickens around. It’s good to see my old friends doddering about the yard. As long as my old hens eat with vigor and cast a curious eye to the world, I know that they have more time. I’m committed to giving the older chickens a good quality of life until the end. But, I always keep in mind that long life is not the standard, and that it is okay when a hen has lived only a couple of years. Death is part of keeping chickens.

Buffy at age 6

The molt is a part of the chicken’s lifecycle. Once a year a hen drops her old feathers and replaces them with new ones. The first time a chicken molts will be somewhere around 18 months of age, so most first-time chicken keepers are surprised when their glossy, full-feathered hens suddenly have bare spots and stop laying. For new chicken keepers, the reaction is often panic. Surely, a scruffy, grumpy, non-laying hen can’t be normal! Even those of us with many years of experience put the molt out of mind, until one day we walk into the coop and seem to be wading through feathers.

The onset of the molt signals the end of the laying season. Molting hens stop laying because they need to put all of their energy into growing feathers. Then, by the time they’re back in full plumage, it’s winter when there’s less light, and it’s cold, and so they continue their break from laying until spring. Here in New England, egg production slows in late August and resumes again in February. Despite the molt, there’s always a hen or two who lays right through the molt, and some hens molt quickly and resume laying with barely a break. The eggs from those hens will be precious!

Molting is a messy, lengthy, disruptive event. Each chicken has about 8,500 feathers. Some birds will lose all of them, seemingly at once. It’s as if the hen is a cartoon character that sneezes and then finds herself embarrassingly naked. More often than not, it’s a patchy affair, with some bald spots and other areas looking raggedy. A few chickens never look scraggly and you can tell that they’re molting only by the evidence of their feathers on the ground. Like the leaves falling in autumn, the a flock doesn’t molt at the same time or pace. It can take a several months for everyone to lose their feathers and during that time the coop will look as if there’s been a pillow fight overnight. Every night.

Although books will tell you that all molts progress from neck to back, wing to tail, your own hens will likely be the exception to the rule. Lulu, who did everything more dramatically than the other hens, lost her tail feathers first, until all were gone but two. She looked like she was wearing one of those costume Indian headdresses that used to be sold at five and dime stores. That lasted for a couple of days, then more feathers dropped until she looked like a discarded, worn-out child’s toy. New feathers first appear as pointed quills. When Lulu’s feathers were growing back in, she looked like a crazed porcupine.

Some chickens don’t molt until it’s truly cold out, and their owners worry that they’ll literally freeze their butts off. This is not a cause for concern. There’s no need to hang a heat lamp in the barn. Somehow they’ll stay warm.

Your poorest layers will be the first to molt, and their molts will take the longest. In days past the birds that molted in the summer were the ones that went into the soup pot as only the best layers were kept through the winter. I take note of who molts first, but my hens get to stay around, grow new feathers and enjoy a break from laying. As much as I miss the eggs, it’s good for the hens to have a few months for renewal. For me, it’s a reminder that my hens are not egg laying machines, and that even a basic commodity like an egg is a product of a complex animal, linked to the cycles of the natural world.

Molting chickens act differently; they often become subdued and less active. Molting is probably uncomfortable and tiring for them. Again, there’s no need to worry – they’ll perk up when the molt ends.

Feathers are almost pure protein, so it’s good to add extra nutrients to the diet during the molt. In days past, farmers added bone and bits of meat. These were ground on site, and you can find antique tools for this task on eBay and at flea markets. Meat attracts vermin and predators, so if you do feed it, provide only as much as the chickens can eat up quickly. Also, bacteria and diseases can be transmitted through meat, so only use only that of good quality. Some people add dry cat kibble to their hens’ rations. Since most commercial pet food is made from meat of questionable sourcing, it’s not something that I do.

Bugs are a great source of protein, so if you allow your hens into the fallow fall garden, they’ll clean up pests hiding in the old vegetation and at the same time get the additional nutrition that they need. Hens limited to a small run can be fed any one of a variety of store-bought products. You can buy freeze-dried mealworms, (sold at at various stores packaged for different animals – pet lizards, wild birds, and chickens – but it’s all the same product.) They’re 50% protein and the hens love them, but too many can trigger kidney failure. A teaspoon a day per hen is plenty! Besides, mealworms are very pricey. Hulled sunflower seeds are an excellent source of protein and essential fats, but again, too many can cause kidney failure.  Another option is to purchase a supplement formulated for molting pet birds, like canaries. These products are high in protein and the other nutrients needed for feather growth. I gave some daily to Lulu when she was molting, and her feathers grew back beautifully, glossy and thick. Feed stores stock supplements made for chickens. Calf-manna is a brand that’s been around for decades. They make a poultry conditioner that looks like laying hen pellets, but it’s obviously “manna’ by the distinctive anise aroma. They say that the spice helps palatability. When I fed it to my flock, they certainly liked it and came through the molt with beautiful new plumage.

If your hen molts out of season, it could be due to stress. A hen kept from food (from bullying or an ailment) will molt. In fact, factory egg producers use that knowledge to implement an inhumane practice. The CAFOs hate molting, it’s not predictable, uniform or productive, and so they starve their birds so that they’ll all molt at one time. Since starvation has been outlawed in some countries, there are companies working to develop chemicals that will initiate and control the molt. Just thinking about that makes me more tolerant of my hens’ cycles.

As far as what to do with all of those feathers… I save the longest and prettiest ones for dried flower arrangements. Some I give to children during school visits. The feathers make good cat toys, too. All of the rest go into the compost.

One of the reasons that people choose to have chickens is that they are so decorative. Feathers shimmer in a range of hues. Their fluffy-feathered bottoms are both charming and comical. Some breeds are sleek, and some, like my cochin, Pearl, look like fussy Victorian ladies.

What we don’t picture, when we get chickens for the first time, is all of unpleasant stuff that comes out of their backsides. Chickens poop. A lot. Some of it gets stuck on their feathers, especially if the manure is at all runny.

Diarrhea is often the first sign that your hen is sick. However, not all hens with messy bums are ill! Sometimes there’s nothing medically wrong with the chicken, and those clods of manure attached to her feathered bottom simply got stuck and dried on before reaching the ground. Don’t worry. It will eventually fall off. If it’s a real mess you can give your hen a bath. But it’s not necessary.

Then again, some hens have a continuous stream of smelly, thin, runny poo stuck to their feathers. This is often a sign of vent gleet, which is a yeast infection. Vent gleet can be an ongoing problem. Buffy arrived with this ailment and over the years I’ve treated it, and kept it in check, but it never fully disappears. To give a hen with vent gleet some relief, clean give her an epsom salt bath (follow the directions here.) If you’re lucky it will clear up for good. Some hens, though, like Buffy, have persistent cases. I’ve had Buffy for six years and her fluffy Orpington vent feathers have always been yucky. She’s not a hen that I pick up much!

Some hens get mysterious skin ailments. A couple of years ago, Eleanor developed a hot, thick, red skin rash around her vent. Epsom salt baths seemed to make her comfortable but the symptoms didn’t go away. For hens like Eleanor and Buffy, there’s one additional tool in my medicine kit and that’s povidone. Povidone is similar to iodine, but is a stronger, broader spectrum bactericide. (It’s more expensive than bactrine, but worth it.)

For the full treatment, first bathe the hen. Since you will be cleaning the feathers of caked-on manure, it’s not a bad idea to wear disposable gloves. After bathing, do a thorough rinsing off with clean water. If it’s a hot day, you can hold her under a hose. Here is Maizie getting bathed.

Once the hen is cleaned up, squirt the providone on the bare skin near the vent and rub it in. Use gloves and don’t wear clothes you care about. This stuff stains!

This is Buffy’s bum several weeks after treatment. Still no runny, stinky secretions!

Messy bums aren’t the only unsightly butt issue. Sometimes there’s feather loss. That’s covered in a separate FAQ!

Lastly, if your hen has serious diarrhea (not the thin stream like vent gleet, but copious, off-color and liquid) then it could be a sign of a serious underlying disease, like cancer or an infection. If that’s the case, you’ll see other symptoms, like lethargy and discomfort, and sadly the external help mentioned here won’t help.