Edna regrowing feathers, November 10

“Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true…”

~ Tennyson, In Memoriam, Canto CVI

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While I did not know this before I started keeping chickens, these little birds lose many of their feathers at least once each year in what is called a molt. Over the course of several weeks new feathers grow in, giving the chickens a chance to refresh broken or worn feathers. Laying hens will usually stop laying eggs during this time, as it takes a great deal of energy and nutrition to grow new feathers. While this may seem a very natural and elegant process, there is one odd facet to this annual occurrence: for adult chickens it usually begins just as the weather gets cold. Chickens will often face early winter with large bald spots! Luckily for my Spoiled Suburban Hens there are plenty of heat sources to gather around, so things here aren’t all bad.

This year Edna underwent the heaviest molt I have yet seen: at 2:37 p.m. on October 18 she shook herself off, and a pile of feathers that would fill a five-gallon bucket shivered to the ground around her. For the next five or six days I collected what seemed a similar amount from the floor of the pen. She emerged a shadow of her former self, looking less like my fat, glossy black Australorp hen and more like an angry, bald velociraptor.

During this time Edna became somewhat weak, and she ravenously craved protein. I fed her small amounts of finely chopped meat each day, and she made scary sounds of hungry satisfaction as she gobbled her snacks down. If I offered a small dish of meat mixed with anything else ~ vegetables, pasta, you name it ~ she picked the meat out and left the rest. There was only one thing she needed to help rebuild new feathers.

As the days progressed, silvery pinfeathers slowly grew in. The feather shafts emerged covered in waxy, protective sheaths, and as the feathers finished developing this finger nail-like covering would wear off as Edna groomed herself. The feathers fall out and grow back in patches, though, so we suddenly found a strange, shaggy beast stalking the yard ~

Molting Edna: strange beast lurking in the shadows

And when it finally emerged, yikes!

Edna the turkey vulture

During this pinfeather stage (which strangely enough occurred around Halloween), poor Edna bore a striking resemblance to Pinhead from the movie Hellraiser.

Despite the odd creature roaming the yard, we stuck it out and resisted the temptation to open a circus sideshow with old Dame Edna. Gradually those nice new feathers began emerging from their coverings:

Edna three weeks into molt, November 10

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Eight weeks after the beginning of the molt, Edna was once again plump, fully feathered, and ready to rejoin the ranks of the laying hens. She signaled this by laying her first egg since the molt began. I sure had missed those lovely brown speckled eggs!

Edna’s lovely (and delicious) brown speckled egg

Edna’s new feathers are a bit darker than before, and they have that lovely beetle-green sheen I so love on the Orpingtons.

Dame Edna, once again plump and glossy

I suppose I could draw a lesson from Edna’s situation, perhaps gaining greater understanding of Life by observing that our growth and development sometimes contains uncomfortable stages that must simply be quietly endured in order to pass into levels of greater personal power. Or maybe I could liken the molt to the uncomfortable cleaning-out process we can bring to our lives, both literally and figuratively, in order to shed the old and make room for some welcome newness. Really, though, I’m just glad to have my Edna back ~ and I’ll bet she’s glad to once again be fully clothed.

Edna and young Lady Amber grazing

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It doesn’t get any better than this: Little Bro opening Christmas present, 1981

Many years ago during the early part of my college years, I started working at a local business to earn some money for school. The job was a temporary gig, and it ended up being perfectly suited to that point in my life: relatively little stress, not a bad drive, and the women in my office were just as nice as could be.

I realized the full extent of their kindness one December day shortly before Christmas. I arrived at work to witness the beginnings of a Christmas party: decorations were being strung up, mountains of food were being set out, and each of my office mates festively walked through the office and set a small gift on all the desks in the room. Now, I am the sort of person who greatly enjoys throwing parties and giving gifts, but I will never forget the horror that washed over me as I saw the stack of beautiful gifts with hand-written cards on my desk ~

~ and realized I had nothing.

I had not been told about the holiday party. I had not been asked to bring anything, had not been told about the gift custom. I faced what was for me the ultimate social nightmare: everyone else had come prepared with food and gifts, and I had brought nothing. I stood there for a moment trembling while Christmas music tinkled on a portable radio and ladies waved hello, and then I did what any other kid might do. I called my mother.

I huddled in the phone booth downstairs and whispered my sad plight to Miss Pat, and like the sight of the gifts I also remember her calm, reassuring voice over the phone saying, “Honey, you do have something to give them. Give them your gratitude! How blessed you are to have such kind people around you! They must think highly of you to include you in their celebration, and they are so very generous to bring you in and not expect a single thing in return. Just walk back in that room and express to everyone how grateful you are for their generosity and kindness, and never feel bad to receive things given freely by others.”

And that’s what I did. Little by little my guilt melted away as these kind ladies excitedly showed their gifts and described the dishes they had prepared, and I began to realize how good they felt to be able to give. What began in horror and dismay ended in such a wonderful afternoon of sharing ~ once I let go of my feeling of obligation and allowed simple gratitude to take its place. Somehow, despite everything I believed up until then, the gratitude was enough.

I still fondly remember those kind women, and the lesson they and my mother taught me still lingers. It is sometimes easier ~ and more socially powerful ~ for many of us to give to others. Gracefully receiving is an oft-underused skill that perhaps needs to be reawakened now and then. The trick, I think, is to re-learn the beautiful openness of children, who receive without shame or obligation. By doing this we honor the giver, the circle of giving is completed, and we make room for more abundance in our own lives.

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We’ll be watching the Queen’s annual Christmas address ~ if you don’t catch it on cable, you can check http://www.youtube.com/theroyalchannel.

Miss Pat, Queen of the Holiday Kitchen

During my years wandering the country, I passed many holiday seasons far away from family. Some of these years I worked on Christmas and New Year’s, and at the time that was fine ~ and sometimes even fun. Despite my former vagabond ways, though, there was always something calling me back to family, and the call was never more clear than it was at Christmas time. The smell of Christmas cookies and holiday spices, the sound of Vince Guaraldi’s jazz music, the sparkle of tinsel and lights, and the smell of coffee and breakfast on Christmas morning are only a sample of the delightful sensory overload that greeted us every year as we moved cozily through the family traditions that wove us ever closer to each other. So many years of these memories fill my mind now, and I wish the beauty and comfort of these images to each and every one of you.

I wish you and yours a most blessed holiday season!
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The Girl teaches Miss Pat how to walk, 1942

One year ago today you left us for better climes. I have not seen you since, but in your compassion you have sent me just enough to let me know you are still out there. For that, and for everything else about you, I feel only boundless gratitude coming into these holidays.

The Girl on the porch

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Meet Penny Pretty. Isn’t she just so huggable?

There are many reasons I love blogging more than working in an office. First, I hate offices. Stale indoor air, often no windows, etc. etc. Nope, not for me. Second, I love to write and take photos. I enjoy sharing my tiny life with whoever cares to read about it ~ and it’s a nice way to record things for myself, too. My employing agency is not so interested in a record of my life, unless it raises my insurance rates. Third, and most importantly, though, I love blogging more than working in an office because on my blog I can do whatever I want.

See where this is going?

Yes, I can not show up for months at a time and there’s not a thing anyone can do about it. Mwa ha ha haaaa! And even better than that, if I want to I could even sneak in and backload all the stories and pictures that have been languishing here, and shove everything back into order. I’ll try to let you know if I do that, dear reader, but you may just want to check back in occasionally and see if there’s anything lurking that looks unfamiliar.

So. Here I am. The hardest part about beginning is beginning, so I’m just going to jump back into the present and fix the rest as I go.

If I want.

And now back to banty madness. I am finding that once I know chicken folk, I am surrounded by enablers who are more than willing to provide me with more chickens than I probably ought to have. This problem, er, issue reared its head in late November as a bantam show in Georgia approached. I received two phone calls on the same day from folks I had been idly chatting with for months, and I suddenly found myself driving back from Dalton, Georgia with eight bantam chickens in the back of the Highlander.

I swear I do not remember exactly how they all got there. Is there such a thing as poultry-induced fugue?

I will elaborate more on the details of how this has worked out in my household, but for now let’s just take a quick look at the new girls.

There are two bantam Chinese cochins, one barred and one lemon blue ~

Two butterscotch booted bantams ~

And a couple of (OK, four) gold-necked Belgian d’Uccles ~

These photos were all taken in their quarantine cages (now now, I am not entirely spontaneous, folks ~ there was a plan somewhere beneath all this). I will snap more flattering pictures once the ladies are moved in to the new Banty Playhouse.

What is the Banty Playhouse? Ah, you will have to wait until the next post to find out more. . .

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If you want to learn more about these beautiful little bantam chickens, you might visit sites like these ~

http://www.bantamclub.com/
The American Bantam Association website features a great deal of information on breed standards, as well as important information on health and biosecurity for owners and the general public.

http://www.feathersite.com/Poultry/BRKPoultryPage.html#Chickens
Feathersite is the result of an incredible amount of work by a dedicated poultry enthusiast. There are more breed photos here than any other place I have found on the web.

http://www.cochinsrule.com/
Browse for hours in this collection of talented bantam cochin breeders.

http://www.shadyoakbantams.com/
This Georgia breeder is doing some nice work to improve several bantam breeds. If you’re at work, turn down the volume before visiting!