At night, when we close up the barns, we count the hens to make sure that everyone has come inside. Last night, Steve went into the Big Barn and counted… three. Out of eleven hens.

It was fully dark out. This was very, very strange. Where were the girls? They were pressed together on the outside roost.

My hens are not allowed to sleep outside. Raccoons rip off hawk netting. Fisher cats shred chicken wire. Weasels slip through two-inch gaps to come hunting chickens. No, outside roosts are never, ever a safe place to be at night. Chickens know this. Hens put themselves to bed. As soon as dusk begins to fall, they trot into the coop, chortle and coo, and nestle in next to their best friends on the ladders leaning against the wall.

Chickens have exceptionally good vision in the daytime, but can’t see a thing at night. They know that they are literally “sitting ducks” if caught out in the dark. And so, they go to bed early. They are never out after nightfall. So, what were my girls doing huddled on that roost? A light drizzle was falling. It wasn’t because they wanted to enjoy the summer weather.

Chickens avoid roosting inside only if there is something wrong with the coop, or if there is something threatening in there.

When it is very hot, hens avoid stifling temperatures, and so they’ll find a cooler place to roost. If that is the case, improve your coop’s ventilation and possibly add a fan. That wasn’t the issue last night.

Sometimes, without you realizing it, the coop becomes infested with mites. These usually come out of the woodwork at night and attack the flock. That wasn’t the case here, either.

Predators can scare chickens away from their roosts. Snakes take up residence. An opossum decides to nap in a nesting box. A bobcat has been pacing by the door. Again, that wasn’t why my hens were outside.

Sometimes, the design of the coop keeps the hens from going inside. One popular blueprint, available on-line, of a coop on stilts, has the ramp going into the coop from the center of the floor. Sited in the shade, the area below the coop becomes too dark for the hens to see their way inside, and so they can become stuck out in their pen all night. I’ve advised a couple of people who have had this exact issue, to cut a door on the side of the coop, and the problem was immediately solved. My girls can easily see their way inside. What was going on?

The answer was obvious. That morning I had put a new feeder inside the of the coop. Grandpa’s Feeders had asked me to try one of their models. The hens step on a lever to open it up. This prevents sparrows from getting to the feed. I have a sparrow problem, and this sounded like a good idea. My hens didn’t agree.

I put the feeder out-of-the-way (or so I thought!) in the corner of the coop. For the first week it is kept in the open position so that the hens learn to step up to eat. Obviously, my girls had no intention of stepping anywhere near it. In fact, that piece of metal was so terrifying that once they were outside, they daren’t come back in. Not even at night to go to bed.

One by one, I carried the girls inside.

This morning, after the sun rose, the hens had more time to eye the contraption.

They didn’t like what they saw and stayed safely at a distance, talking heatedly about the intruder.

I, on the other hand, think that the feeder is well-made and would be delighted if I could stop providing sparrows with laying hen pellets. I left the feeder in the corner and opened up the big door so that the girls could hurry out past it.

At some point the Gems will figure out that there is food in there. Maybe. You can guess, but you never really know what chickens are thinking.

I tend to take Lily on walks through the same stretch of woodland.

It never gets boring. It never feels the same. This week the ferns are up and lush. It’s like walking through a prehistoric landscape. As much as I like seeing the green and growing, my favorite things in the woods are the fallen logs. They become old friends, as I watch them change, host moss and lichen, and slowly disintegrate back into the forest.

If I were a textile designer, I could make a career out of creating designs inspired by lichen.

It’s a shame, then, that many homeowners, as soon as they see a tree with damage, call a company to have it removed.

If a tree is hanging over your roof and threatening your home, it should be taken down. But, if the dead wood is in a place where it can fall apart, embrace the mess.

I think that it adds to the texture of the landscape.

Yes, a dead tree hosts insects. Don’t be put off by the ants and creepy crawlies. Those are fodder for birds.

Leave the unsightly tree and you just might find that you have a spectacular visitor.

Pileated woodpecker

Although I’m always asked about how to care for chickens in cold weather (don’t they need heat? and what about snow?) after twenty years of backyard chicken keeping, I can tell you that your flock will weather cold weather just fine. (It’s all about good coop design and management. See here.) I wish, instead, that people would ask, How will my hens do in the heat?. The answer to that is that chickens get heat stressed. When it’s too hot, and they don’t have cool water, they can die between the time you leave for work and the time that you get home. I’ve written a FAQ about hot weather care for your flock. Read it now, so that you are prepared.

Although nights here have remained cool, and we haven’t had any extreme high temperatures yet, that heat wave could come at any time. We’re prepared. Steve has put up the shade cloth. We take it down in the winter so that the hens get as much sun as possible, but it goes up in the spring. The fabric is designed to block sunlight, but let water and air circulation through. You can purchase these at home stores, or find a supplier on-line to make a custom size for you. They last for years, and it is a very good investment for your coop.

As soon as all danger of freezing is past, provide outside waterers. Chickens would rather drink water outside in the pen than go into the coop for a drink. To keep them hydrated I keep both the inside and outside dispensers filled. The Ladies empty that plastic waterer in just two days. (The red ceramic feeder contains grit which they eat when they need it. Free-choice grit is essential for your hen’s ability to digest food.)

Veronica says that all of this is quite interesting. She’s ready to sunbathe.

Mother Nature does things on her own idiosyncratic schedule. Usually, by early June, my perennial bed is full of color. By now the peonies in the perennial bed should be opening up into showy bursts (which soon become loose, falling petals that require tidying up so that the flowers below aren’t buried in a soggy mess.) However, this year, despite the predictions that the Northeast will bear the brunt of rising temperatures due to global warming, Mother Nature is taking her time.

This year she seems to prefer a limited palate. Luckily, it’s my favorite – blues that ease into the purple and red end of the spectrum.

Borage is one of the few true blue plants.

These flowers are shot through with a smokey blue. I can’t remember what this is, and the tag disappeared over the winter. Can someone remind me?

My inexpensive, fill-in-the-blanks petunias are stunning.

Although herbs taste best if you keep their blooms pinched off, I can’t do that to this Vietnamese basil. The flower is edible, but there’s so little color in the garden, that I’m leaving it there for myself to look at, and for the bees to gather nectar.

There’s purple in the meadow, too, and I’ve already watched the pollinators eagerly going from bloom to bloom. Don’t discount how important clover is for bees. I have plenty, and I pull handfuls to feed to Phoebe.

Chives are in bloom. Without the balance of the fragrance of the peonies, my garden smells distinctly of onions.

The salvia can always be counted on for a show all summer. How the bees and hummingbirds love it!

Usually, by the first week of June, the green swath of the meadow is dotted with yellow and whites of daisies, but they’re still closed up tight. However, there are tall spires of lupine bursting with purple.

I’m guessing that Mother Nature will pull out her pink paints next, but I could be wrong. We’ll have to wait and see.