Opal is my big white Delaware hen. The Delaware is a classic, fat hen with a docile temperament. The breed was developed in the 1940s as a meat chicken, so I didn’t expect a lot of eggs from Opal, I just like her looks and personality. That’s why it’s such a surprise that she’s the only Gem who is presently laying. This is especially remarkable because she’s the hen whose eggs were most affected by IB (infectious bronchitis). Even today, with the flock recovered, she continues to lay wrinkled eggs. Her eggshells have creases., but she lays almost daily. In fact, Opal has yet to go through a molt.

Other hens are on the worst dressed list.  When Amber stretches her head up, her scrawny red neck shows, and she looks like she’s wearing a moth-eaten sweater.

The molt is not an orderly, controllable event. It’s affected by genetics, health, weather, and a multitude of other inputs. Two hens of the same breeding and age, living together, can experience the molt in vastly different ways. Here is Ruby. She is not a very good layer, and in October she molted and quickly regrew her feathers.

Her sister, Garnet, who is the better layer of the two, has been dropping her feathers in clumps, and is regrowing them in a dramatic, imitate a porcupine, manner.

Notice the Onyx, the Barnevelder hen, has molted and has replenished her lovely feathers, which to my eye, always looks like the finest of Scottish tweed coats.

You might think, seeing these photos, that the poorest layers  molt first. That’s generally true, but there’s always exceptions. Edwina is 8 1/2 years old. She hasn’t laid an egg for years. Edwina hasn’t molted yet. I honestly don’t know if she will. There’s nothing in my books, vintage, nor modern, about the molting habits of ancient hens. Edwina certainly looks good, doesn’t she?

Other old hens of mine have molted. Buffy is slowly, slowly regrowing her feathers. Twinkydink went through a light molt, hardly noticeable if you didn’t know her well. Betsy has molted and is still getting her new quills in.

Meanwhile, what with the cold and the reduced daylight, I don’t expect to see eggs from the Gems until February. Unless, that is, Opal never does molt and continues, every day, to leave this in the nesting box.

All summer long, the goats offered to help in my garden.

We’re good at pruning, they said.

Yesterday they were finally allowed to help in the lavender and mint bed.

There was a debate about who is head gardener.

I can show you my pruning skill on the roses, said Pip.

No, I said. And that is why the gardeners are wearing leashes.

The flock at Life Care of Nashoba Valley are doing great!

The team of maintenance men who take care of the building and grounds are all trained to care of the hens. I recently stopped by to make sure that they were on top of winter requirements. They’re fine about hauling water out. A tarp will be installed over the run so that it is dry and free of snow.

They’re doing something right there, because they collect four to five eggs a day from five hens. That’s not enough to use in the dining room, but it is enough to reward the people who take care of the chickens.

When I selected the pullets for this flock, I knew that one hen, the Buff Orpington, would be special. She was the most naturally calm and friendly chick I’ve ever known. She’s been named Clementine, and she has totally endeared herself to one of the caregivers at the home. Lisa spends her lunch break with Clementine. Now that the weather is cold and the residents are staying mostly indoors, Lisa has been bringing Clementine inside to visit. I hear that she nestles against Lisa’s shoulder and chuck-chucks happy noises.

When I checked in, Clementine was  busy laying an egg so I didn’t interrupt her. I did, though, get to hear her cheerfully chuckle as she sat in the nesting box. What a sweet hen!

Once every few months, Steve gets together with some friends to play poker. Being guys, they don’t talk about personal stuff. At this last poker game, one of the men said to Steve, “Isn’t it your wife who got the chickens to Life Care? My father lives there and when I visit, we go out to the coop. It gives us something to do and talk about.”

Exactly. That’s exactly what the hens are there for.

If you are new to my blog, you can read the backstory about the nursing home hens beginning here.

Today is my 55th birthday.

I bought a horse.

I have to let that sink in.

I know what horse ownership is like. It means whatever I’m doing, however wonderful it is, I’m thinking, “I should be at the barn.” It means that there is a constant flow of money out. These days it means that at the end of the day my back will hurt.

But it also means this.

Chickens, goats, dogs, husband, kids. My life is already full and rich with relationships. But what happens on the back of a horse can only happen on the back of a horse.

Only a few weeks ago, Steve and I were talking about how happy I was that I was riding again. He said, “buy a horse.” And so I did.

I thought that it would take all winter to find the perfect partner, but, thanks to a HenCam reader who knew someone who knew someone, I found Tonka.

I’ll be boarding him at a stable two miles up the road from my house, where there are other horses to keep him company, and people to attend to his daily needs.

Tonka arrives the first week of December. You’ll be seeing and reading more about him then!

Most chickens don’t have long lives (see my post about how long chickens live) but a few sturdy birds manage to survive respiratory diseases and escape reproductive tract malfunctions and live on into old age. Even then, they rarely die peacefully in their sleep. Old chickens are prone to tumors, cancer and blockages of their intestinal tracts. Internal layers that survive peritonitis can have large masses in their body cavities that will eventually interfere with body organs. I do necropsies, and have seen all of these things. All of these conditions can cause a hen to suffer, sometimes just for days, sometimes for weeks.

Then again, an old hen can go sedately along, with something obviously wrong (look at Twinkydink’s grey comb!) and yet still get pleasure from a sun bath and take part in the social life of the flock. An old hen like Twinkydink you can leave well enough alone.

If you intend to let your hens retire (and not dispose of unproductive hens as real farmers must do) then you will be faced with knowing when to let a hen live out her days, and when it is kinder to euthanize. This is a decision that I make on a daily basis about Buffy. She’s survived many ailments. At almost eight years of age, she is ancient and feeble. She can no longer hop out of the coop in the morning. I have to carry her to a spot in the sun.

But, Buffy is not yet suffering. I know this because of a few things that she still can do. Buffy can stand on her own and eat and drink. In fact, she continues to eat with gusto. A hen that is too weak to eat is truly ill.

Buffy is not harassed by the other hens, and in fact will peck at those who get into her space. The other hens recognize weakness, so although to my eye Buffy is wobbly, she has maintained her status in the flock. A truly sick hen will hide, or be attacked by others.

That said, it is clear that much is amiss with Buffy, She no longer has the strength in her legs to roost, which means she’s below everyone else at night. Sometimes she gets pooped on. Being a soft-feathered Orpington, the manure sinks down into her coat and sticks there, unseen. Yuck.

Being a weak old hen, Buffy can’t preen those feathers, and so today, using scissors, I carefully snipped off the manure.

I was concerned that Buffy was filthy in other places too, and so I gave her a warm epsom salt bath.

I was relieved to see that her bottom was clean and healthy. Her manure is normal, not runny and sticky. She had a few lice crawling on her, but it wasn’t the sort of infestation that happens to sick hens who can’t dust bathe.

Buffy was skeptical that all of this fussing was necessary.

It’s too cold to go outside with wet feathers, so I blew her dry, which she seemed to like. When done, she had enough energy to stand up and glare at me.

Buffy is at the end of her life. She cannot walk more than a few steps without sitting down. She’s skinny – it’s likely that her body can no longer efficiently digest the food that she does eat, and so I do give her a small handful of sunflower seeds and corn in the morning. (High value food, in a small amount, gives her a boost, however, do NOT feed your ailing hen with a syringe or force gruel into them. If a hen isn’t eating or drinking, there’s likely something blocking the passageways inside and you will make matters worse.)

But Buffy is not done yet. She eats her corn and sunflower seeds right up in the morning, and woe to anyone who wants to share! When Buffy is no longer able to stand, if her vent area becomes raw from diarrhea, if she becomes infested with lice, if she no longer eats and drinks, then I’ll know her time is up. I don’t want her to suffer, and sadly, many older hens do as they waste away at the end. I won’t let that happen to Buffy; I will euthanize her. For now though, she has a patch of sun to enjoy.