The Girls, age 5 months

OK.  A chicken post.  I can't help it.  Times, they are a changin'.  I officially have egg-producing adolescents now.  They are pretty girls....

Fern

Fern, the Partridge Plymouth Rock, has been very, very, loud lately, which is one sign that a young lady is getting ready to lay an egg.  My guess is that hers is the dark brown one above.  When I leave to go back to the house, especially, she indignantly stands at the side of the pen and bwawks with greater and greater volume as I get farther away, apparently cranky that the treat-distribution has come to an end.  It's a little embarrassing, in my quiet, snowy neighborhood.  But you have to love the fact that she has so much to say.



Roxie is a bit of a concern to me right now--she's not feeling too hot, and hasn't been for a while.  She, our usually sassy easter-egger, laid five eggs without a lot of rest between and then hasn't laid any all week.  (Unless she's hidden them somewhere, and believe me, I've checked.)  I am giving her some dairy to make sure that she's getting enough calcium (egg shells demand a lot,) while I wait for a supplement to come in. I'm also giving her a few droppers-full of echinacea infusion a couple of times a day, to boost her system.

Roxanne

She is up and down, sometimes frightening me by sitting up on her roost, face to the wall, puffed up, snoozing and obviously not feeling well.  Then the next time I check on her, she is up and eating, although not very competitive about getting to the kitchen scraps I bring, not very vocal (!), and strangely lethargic overall. I am keeping a close eye on my Foxy Rox at this point.

Ramona

Ramona, my Australorp, is a shameless beggar.  I don't mind, really, because she is also the easiest to handle and is entirely comfortable with me.  This is the one that hops on Jason's lap and gets a few pats before going on her way with the rest of the flock, remember.  She has us right where she wants us, and we all know it.  It is too bad that this picture doesn't show how iridescent her black feathers are--green and even purple in the sunlight.

Lined up for treats (spoiled chickens)

I know that these chickens are total pets, but I enjoy interacting with and learning another creature--one of a foreign temperament entirely from that of a dog or cat, hamster, iguana, snake or even parakeet.  Flock mentality is a fascinating world to live in, even vicariously from a lawn chair.  Can I tell you how much I appreciate the eggs that the girls are giving us?  How very fun it is to crack through the dense shell and plop a bright orange yolk--made from our back yard--into the skillet or mixing bowl?  I know that my enthusiasm is palpable.

Shy Betty

Lest I forget:  Betty is our shy girl.  She is also a runner, and I've spent way too many hours chasing her around the yard, particularly when she was smaller and we hadn't yet made a door in the side of the pen.  I am pretty sure that she is the layer of the light-brown eggs, although they could be Ramona's too.  She, who was fairly bold as a little chick, is possibly at the bottom of the pecking order, but no one seems to really get picked on in the coop so far--there is plenty of room (and scraps) for everyone.  As long as Roxie pulls through whatever illness or devastating life change it is that she is going through (I mean, five eggs laid, all stolen; nothing to show for it, etc.--who's to say?) then I think we are on our way to a happy little homestead here on Lester Street.  And just about every morning--an egg!