Out in the chicken coop, the first feathers are beginning to leave the older hens, foreshadowing the annual molt cycle that will eventually have them stop laying eggs so their bodies can concentrate on growing lovely new feathers and then prepare them for another season of egg laying. We’ve gathered the first egg from our spring chicks—and in the nest box, Mrs. Feathers seems to have realized that the eggs she’s been setting on for so many days will never be hatching.

Three months ago, I introduced those spring chicks to the chicken coop.  My notoriously broody Buff Orpington hen, Mrs. Feathers, decided she needed babies of her own and began to sit on a nest. In last week’s post, I told you the story of the egg donor, the candling of the eggs, and I concluded that you, like those of us here, would have to wait for the rest of the story.

Nearly ten days later, Mrs. Feathers was still sitting on those eggs.  The teenagers were beginning to be interested in the nest boxes. Mrs. Feathers, however, did not like the idea of sharing her space with any chicken, much less the new girls on the block.  Most of the hens already laying had given up listening to her complaints and had begun making hollows in the litter of the coop and laying their eggs in those self-made nests.  It was past time to make changes in the coop again.

You may remember that about a month ago we removed the door between the two sections of the coop to make room for the larger flock.  Normally, the smaller section is reserved for a hospital area or a nursery. I cleaned the coop again, removed the low section of roosts and one feeder, and added clean flake shavings and a cardboard nest box. The plan: move Mrs. Feathers and her eggs by light of the full moon to the new box, block off the old one and hope for the best.

It was a great idea.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Feathers did not think so.  The morning after the move, I found the nice cardboard nest box empty of chicken, the blocking to the old box ripped off and spread across the floor, and Mrs. Fathers calmly sitting in it.  With no eggs, of course….the eggs were still in the nest box where I had moved them the evening before. 

Now, I feed the chickens and open the door to the yard early in the morning—not long after first light.  After my first panic, seeing the nest of uncovered eggs, I checked—and they were not completely cool. I know if the inside of a developing egg cools too much, the embryo will die, but I crossed my fingers and carefully slid them back under Mrs. Feathers in the nest she chose.

Mrs. Feathers continued to set on the eggs.  The other chickens, however, really wanted to use that nest box.  After they laid a few eggs in the new one I had prepared for Mrs. Feathers and her little flock, they began to climb right in on top of Mrs. Feathers in the nest box she was using.  Too confusing.  I had marked the developing eggs carefully with pencil, but now I was sorting eggs and removing chickens and thinking how eggs about to hatch develop thinner shells to make it easier for tiny chicks to peck their way out…

I hauled my wire dog crate into the coop last weekend, added the nice new nest box and a small water jug and dish of feed.  Once again, late at night, I moved the eggs and Mrs. Feathers—and locked her in the cage.  In the morning, she was still on the nest.  I left her in the cage until the eggs had been under her for 23 days—21 days is the average time it takes a chick to fully develop in the shell.  On the 23^rd day, I checked the eggs—hoping for a tiny hole or even the sound of tapping from inside which would indicate a chick trying to peck its way out.  Nothing.  I removed the nest box, the eggs –and in the meantime, Mrs. Feathers had headed to the yard for a lovely, long, exuberant dust bath. (Nothing like a nice bath to rid a girl of loose feathers and any creepy-crawlies!)

After a good long while, Mrs. Feathers came back to the cage, checked every corner carefully, fluffed up a bit, and headed back outside.  I watched her off and on all day, and noticed that she often went back to the cage, but never seemed to stay.  She also never went back to the original nest site.  Today, she’s outside in the summerhouse with an old friend—clucking and scratching and, it seems to me, catching up on the news from the hen yard.

If this situation happens again, I will do some things differently:

First, I’ll decide within a few days if I want the broody hen to raise chicks.  If I do, then I will move her immediately to a protected area—my dog crate seems to work well– and watch to see if she will stay on the nest there.  Then, I will slide in fertile eggs, and let the warmth from her feathers and her motherly instinct do their magic.  I’ll leave the eggs there, too—no moving or jostling even for candling.

If I decide I don’t need or want more chicks, I will also move the broody hen to the crate, but I won’t give her a nest box.  Most sources say little or no litter should be added to a pen when trying to break a broody hen—and I might even put the crate up on blocks so cool air can circulate underneath.  A daytime trip to the summerhouse, weather permitting, might be a good idea, too.

So…no new chicks in the henhouse this season.  And this brings my thoughts right back to “cycles”.  In nature, animals are alerted to the circle of life: winter is the resting season, when seeds should be curled up gathering strength for the warmer rains and milder temperatures that will arrive in springtime and trigger another season of growth.  Migrating birds know when to leave for winter roosts, and when to wing back north.  Non-migrating birds (and I count chickens in here) and mammals have an internal clock that causes them to exchange feathers or grow winter coats, and store up energy for the colder days sure to arrive. Even on our small homestead, we bring in firewood, harvest our squashes and potatoes, and admire our attempts at preserving garden produce so we’ll have supplies for the winter. 

It’s not the right time for baby chicks in our coop.  The natural cycle is winding down through harvest toward rest.  Maybe in the spring…..