For Thanksgiving in our house there’s no turkey, no stuffing, no cranberry sauce. Those foods are all well and good, but my guys couldn’t care less about them. I’ve made the traditional feast, and, in all honesty, it wasn’t worth the effort to my family. So, I’ve turned the holiday into an excuse to make pie. Although pie takes planning and work and time, it is my favorite thing to make, and, unlike the rest of the Thanksgiving meal, pie is greeted with enthusiasm by the people that I live with. So, I bake pie. A lot of pie.

For the last ten years, the Sunday after Thanksgiving is when I have a Pie Party. Thirty-two people showed up yesterday. Each person eats half a pie. Yes, they really do – I keep records of what I bake and what’s leftover. I know what people eat! Yesterday I set out fifteen pies.

Fifteen pies require crusts. Some have pastry on tops and bottoms. It took me three prep sessions in advance to make the twenty crusts needed. I roll out and freeze the crusts a week before the party. My directions are here.

I like my pies to look rustic. My lattice work is uneven. That’s on purpose.

Sometimes pies take finagling to get them right. The juices in this berry pie didn’t set the way I wanted, so I spooned the excess out. Spilled juices don’t mar that uneven lattice. It’s not the prettiest pie, but finessed just so, it was the favorite pie of the party.

Some pies require pre-baked crusts. The table on the porch provided a cooling spot.

There are always leftover scraps of crust. I turn those into Pie Crust Cookies. Which is a good thing to have, because it is hard to wait until the party for pie!

All in all, I made eleven different types of pies. I use the organization skills that I learned when I worked in professional kitchens. I start with the menu. I make a shopping list, which is broken down into what can be purchased in advance, and what needs to be fresh. I create a prep list, divided into do-ahead jobs, and those that are last minute. I create a timetable for the last two days – what needs chilling, when a pie needs baking off, etc. Being organized is what allows me to enjoy the process of the actual baking.

I’m the only cook in the family, and I like it like that. I do get help with tidying the house, bringing out the folding chairs, etc. Although, not everyone lends a hand.

Tomorrow I’ll show you the pies.

Yesterday Betsy found a sunny place to doze. While napping, she slipped peacefully to death. As sad as I am to lose her, I was relived that she went as she did. I did expect that she would die this winter. She’d reached the venerable age of 7 1/2 years, and in the last few months had slowed down considerably. It’s rare that a hen dies of old age without horrible ailments to complicate her end. She was a lucky one.

In her day she was a feisty hen, skittering between the big girls, and telling each of my rabbits who was the boss (her!) Betsy was my favorite school visit hen. She fit in the palm of my hand. Even the smallest child felt confident meeting her. She seemed to like to travel, and didn’t mind leaving the flock at all.

Betsy stopped egg laying years ago, and I retired her from school visits when she turned five. She deserved her retirement.

Here is a photo of Betsy at her prime, with that classic bantam stance.

She was the last of my four small bantam White Leghorns. Snowball, Coco, Eggers and Betsy. All were delightful birds with distinct personalities. At this point, heading into winter, I have no intention to get more bantams. My coops are quite full enough. The hens are all in compatible, no drama, flocks. It won’t be the same without her, but it’s still good.

Note: I did a necropsy which showed no obvious diseases. No tumors, no bizarre fat deposits, no internal parasites. Her crop and gizzard were full and normal. She wasn’t skinny. However, stretches of her intestinal tract had stopped working. She was old. I’m glad she passed away peacefully in the sun.

Many people are surprised to learn that chickens don’t (and shouldn’t) sleep in nests. Rather, chickens sleep on roosts. If we humans tried to sleep while balancing on a bar, we’d fall off, but birds curl their feet around the roost, and lock their flexor tendons, so that even when thoroughly relaxed, they stay put. (Think about it. This is why you don’t see birds falling out of trees when they take naps!) I take chicken anatomy into account when building roosts for my coops. I like round bars – it’s easier for the hens to stay latched on. Some people advocate for flat roosts, thinking that the hens can better cover their cold toes with their feathers. My hens hunker down just fine on round roosts, and they haven’t had frozen toes yet.

You might think, but wouldn’t they be cozier in nests? The answer is no. Chickens produce manure all day and all night. They poop. A lot. If they sleep in the nesting boxes, then they’re sitting on a pile of damp manure. Eggs laid in those nesting boxes will be filthy. When chickens sleep on a roost, their manure drops down into the bedding and the hens don’t breathe in moisture and ammonia fumes all night. This is why roosts should be up high and why coops built like dog houses are a bad idea. If your chickens are roosting only a few inches off of the floor of the coop, then they’ll be prone to respiratory ailments all year round, and frostbite in the winter.

Despite the benefits of roosting, some chickens might decide to sleep in the nesting boxes. An ill chicken may take to a nesting box. Sometimes a hen that is molting will stay in a box because she is feeling (literally) prickly, and her pecking order has been shaken up because of her exposed skin; the box will feel like a safe place to her.  Broody hens will also sleep in nesting boxes. You can take a hen from a nesting box and put her on the roost at dusk, and often (but not always) she’ll stay put. Young birds need to learn to roost. I’ve written about that here and here.

The dowels should be about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Plan on at least six inches of roost per bird. In the winter they’ll huddle up for warmth, in the summer they won’t crowd so tightly together. Hens are fussy about who they sleep next to, so plenty of space will prevent squabbles.

Note that this roost is attached to the wall with hinges. I can lift it up to clean underneath it. Also note that it leans against the wall at a slant. That way the hens on the lower rungs don’t get pooped on by the girls above. I like tiered roosts because the old hens use the steps to make their way to the top, and to get down again in the morning.

Roosts are also used during the daytime. Betsy, who is a very, very old hen, rests indoors while the others are out and about. It’s a peaceful place for her.

I provide plenty of outside roosts, too. It’s a way to create more usable space in a small pen. Roosts are especially welcome when it’s muddy and snowy as the hens appreciate perches that are high and dry. Branches make for attractive and interesting roosts.

Roosts also enrich the environment. I keep stumps in the run, and move them about every week or so. The hens seem to like the change of scenery.

Veronica likes the top of the ladder.

Phoebe also makes use of the roost. The inside corner protects her from bothersome chicken feet, but still allows her to be right in the middle of the action.